


Fire Emblem Awakening  ::Noble Remembrance::

by RoadToDusk



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 160,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoadToDusk/pseuds/RoadToDusk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up on a field with no memory is already suspicious enough, to somehow become a tactician to an entire army is even stranger. There's been dreams haunting Soren ever since he awoken on that field. Dreams that he doesn't quite understand what they mean. Soren continues to strive through the days in order to keep all his comrades alive. Yet, in the back of his mind, he feels he's being watched. Watched by something he fears he wouldn't have any control over. </p><p>Will it change him into a better man, or will it change him into a monster?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

Do you remember?

_Remember what?_

When you first met her? You’ve mentioned her once before.

_Oh…that time._

You promised to tell us the story Soren, we’ve all been waiting for this. You haven’t told us much about how you got here, this supposed war you were involved in.

_All right, I suppose I’m obligated to tell you what I remember thus far. Though, it’s not a kind tale as you may make it out to be. It’s one of friendship and trials, of love and war, and how blood can try to run much thicker than water._

_***********************************_

_The sweat that trailed down his neck was horrendous, the way his jaw tightened and his teeth clenched. His cloak clung desperately to his body. He had thrown himself forward, narrowly avoiding a bolt of lightning followed by an array of dark spells. It was a locked battle, he had prepared for this fight for ages. Though he did not know it would be this close. Lightning erupted as a fellow warrior joined by his side, rushing ahead and clashing with the dark mage that was violently attacking._

_Chrom. The name rung through the air as the warrior connected making his advance, blocking and striking the openings that were made open to him._

_“Hah!” Chrom parried the dark mages’ magic only to retreat back hastily from the explosion he created. Chrom shielded his face, his raven locks lashing against his skin. The cloaked alley had quickly taken to the offense, casting his own brand of magic against the dark mage, providing cover to the noble. “There!” With the quick help, the cloaked caster averted his attention upwards to find the dark mage forming a seal around himself, preparing his next attack. It was with quick thinking that the cloaked mage was able to counter with a strong bolt of lightning._

_The dark mage moved with such haste however, avoiding not only the cloaked attack but managing to land a brutal spell against Chrom. The rocks jagged upwards and the male could only hold his body up with the sturdy support of his sword. The dark mage attempted once more to finish the job yet the cloaked figure easily knocked away his spell, capturing the mage’s full attention. It was more counters from there on, the battle raging intensely between the mages._

_Counter after counter, strike after strike._

_It seemed almost pointless as their strengths were equaled, yet this dark mage had incredibly powerful magic. It was only a matter of time when Chrom and him formed a tactful plan. Both had managed to get on opposite sides of this sorcerer, dividing his attention and causing him to lose sight on which is the real target. He took the bait as he decided to focus on Chrom. With a flick of his wrist, he casted the spell that would topple the dark mage. His body burst into flames, licking along his body as he felled. Chrom merely looked over to the cloaked figure with an optimistic grin._

_“This isn’t over yet—”_

_Watching the body rise from the purple flames, it twisted and morphed upwards, the cloaked mage only had seconds to press his palm towards’ his friend’s chest, shoving him out of the way. It worked as Chrom stumbled roughly back. Now he could only brace himself as the spell knocked him off his feet, hurling him onto his back. The agony that raged through his body, it felt so clear, it felt so /real/._

_“H-Hey! Are you all right?” Chrom was by his side again, looking incredibly worried. Yet a smile etched on his face as he helped sit the cloaked figure up, ‘That’s the end of him. Thanks to you we carried the day you can rest easy—” the attention was averted to the remaining fires that lingered, watching them die. It didn’t feel right, no, what was this feeling. A sharp, intense pain shot through his body, his vision distorting into red, cracked lines. No, this wasn’t right._

_What—what was this cracking—in his body?_

_“Hey…hey are you all right??” His vision worsened as he looked to his concerned friend, finding him shaking his body to get him out of his daze. Instead, he returned the gesture with a bolt of lightning, right through his abdomen. Time seemed to slow as Chrom’s face consorted from shock into merciless agony._

_“Don’t....it’s….this is not your fault—” The man, his dear friend, struggled to explain, “Promise me, you’ll escape from this place…please…”_

_Go._

_The last words was the last breathe he held. Chrom stumbled forward, the gaze in his eyes vanishing as he fell to his knees and lastly to the ground, remaining eerily still. The world became silent, the cloaked figure shaking in place at the actions he caused. No. No. He backed away, looking at his hands as they still twitched with the lightning spell he had cast._

_“Gods, what have I done?!”_

_***********************************_

It was a blur where he ended up running. He just remembered fleeing, with no chance of ever running back. Something was haunting him, something was trying to grab him and relinquish him of all his self-control. His body consorted in violent twists, feeling his mind shatter and rip apart in a strange grip. He groaned faintly, wishing for his eyes to fly open, to take him away from this nightmarish reality.

He remembered—falling—he fell at some point when this nightmare began. What about before; what was he doing beforehand?

“Chrom, we have to do something,” The voice grabbed his attention, focusing on the young female’s innocent remark. “Oh, so what do you propose?” A male, no, it wasn’t foreign to him, it sounded familiar in fact. It couldn’t have been the same man from the dream. Wait, was it a dream? Yes….it had to be.

“Uh—I don’t know!” She panicked.

Finally he forced his eyes to open, finding two hovering over his body in discussion. It was no doubt to his mind however that the male was definitely Chrom, but Gods, how does he know his name. They immediately looked, leaning forward causing the male to feel his personal space to be rather invaded at this point. Was this how strangers normally greeted each other in—in fact—wait—where _was_ he?

“I see you’re awake now,” Chrom greeted.

“Hey there,” the young woman beside smiled warmly.

“There are better places to take a nap then on the ground, you know. Gimme your hand.” He gestured a open palm towards him. A complete stranger even. Rather gratefully, he took his hand and was lifted to his feet, standing nearly as tall as Chrom himself. The man smiled, taking a step back as the woman beside smiled and he had taken to notice a third stood with them, a tall man in full armor, attentively watching him specifically.

“You all right?” Chrom asked.

“Y-Yes,” He hesitated to respond, “Thank you Chrom,” The words accidently spit out of his mouth. Chrom in return raised a brow. “Ah, then you know who I am?” He pressed. That’s when his stomach dropped, what vivid images of the dream whisked away.

“No actually,” He responded dully. The others seem perplexed by the response as the stranger scratched his head. “I-It’s strange, your name…it just came to me…” He continued to scratch his head, “Yet nothing else will.”

“Hmm….how curious, not even your name by chance?” Chrom decided to ask. The male rested his chin on his palm, his brows furrowing tightly together in thought. No, he knows he has a name. What person could exist without one?

Yet what was his own name?

“No…I’m not sure….umm…” The male stumbled upon what to say next, “I’m sorry but where are we exactly right now?”

“You don’t even know where you are??” Chrom asked.

“Oh! I’ve heard of this before!” The young woman piped, “it’s called amnesia!”  

“It’s called a load of Pegasus dung.” The armed man expressed, scoffing at his attempts to recall anything at this rate, “We’re to believe you remember milord’s name but not your own?”

The attention was drawn back to the robed man. He scratched his head uncomfortably, attempting to clear the fog from his mind. He knew there was something back there, he couldn’t reach it though, it was scratched and distorted. He sighed rather roughly, his shoulders slumping at his rather concerning predicament.

“It’s the truth! No matter how ridiculous it may sound.” He responded.

The armed man frowned at the response and already he had an unsettling feeling he was reaching his bad side. Especially since all three were armed.

“…what _if_ it is true, Frederick? We can’t leave just leave him here, alone and confused?” Chrom turned to the other man, Frederick, “What sort of Shepherds would we be then?”

“Just the same milord,” Frederick responded, “I must emphasize caution. ‘Twould not let a wolf into our flock.” Chrom merely hummed as the cloaked stranger ran his hand through his red, shoulder length locks. He was getting rather unsettled by the predicament. It seemed like anyone at this point would have been better to deal with. He was being trialed as a criminal already by these common folk. Shepherds nonetheless.

“Right then—we’ll take him back to the town and sort this out.” Chrom agreed. Now it was his turn to jump back. Going to town, wait, how was this suddenly agreed upon?

“Wait a moment! Do I have a say in this?” He demanded.

“Peace friend—I promise we’ll hear all you have to say back in town. Now come,” Chrom gestured.

At first the man didn’t move, his shoulders slumped at he stared at the man in disbelief. It was only till Frederick came beside him, towering over him easily. He didn’t even want to meet the man’s glance as he simply turned and started walking after Chrom immediately. He rather not know how easy his body could be impaled with his lance. It was already easy to tell that Frederick was no ordinary man. He seemed to have been professional trained in the arts of fighting. Yet….why would he be hanging out with these two, tending to sheep?

They marched for an hour, nearly in total silence expect for the young women. She seemed to be the energetic one, constantly wearing a smile on her face. It soured though when she complained about all the walking they had done. Chrom only responded it was good training for them to which she stuck her tongue out at him. The male blinked, deducing that they were probably siblings on their strange behavior. It was strange….how he seemed to notice the advances and disadvantages of these people. He didn’t focus on it, it just _happened._ Strange, he was finding himself to be a rather difficult puzzle to explain. It was finally he stopped walking, causing the others to follow suit, turning to him. He sighed, looking between Chrom and his sister.

“What will you do with me? Am I to be your prisoner?” He asked cautiously.

Chrom in returned chuckled, shaking his head and offered him a warm smile, “Hah! No, you’ll be free once we establish your no enemy of Ylisse.”

“Ylisse?” the male furrowed his brows, “Is that where we are?”

“Gods, have you not heard of the halidom before?” Frederick came from behind, inspecting his face. He scoffed, shaking his head. “Ha! Someone pay this actor. He plays quite the fool!”

“Hey—” The cloaked male snapped and Frederick smirked in response, “His furrowed brows is especially convincing….”

“Fredrick please.” Chrom chided. Frederick backed away from the male but it was already a clear establishment that the two were on tense terms. Chrom sighed while the younger woman emitted a quiet, “Oh boy…”

“This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the exalt,” Chrom explained briefly, “But I suppose proper introductions are in order. My name is Chrom—but then, you already knew that. The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa,”

So they were siblings after all. Strange he was able to deduce that. However the young woman stomped in place, swinging her arms in the air.

“I am not delicate! Hmph!” She turned from Chrom, facing the male with a forced smile. “Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick sometimes.” Chrom turned with an insulted expression but Lissa smiled widely, continuing on, “But you’re lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would’ve been a rude awakening!”

“Brigands?” The male repeated, his face slightly paling at the thought. Oh no, she was right. He rather deal with them then bandits and thieves stripping him of everything, including his head. He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. He decided to press onto his other thoughts, specifically the Shepherds.

“Shepherds, you tend sheep?” He questioned, “In full armor??”  

“He, it’s a dangerous job. Just ask Fredrick the Wary here.” Chrom joked. The male turned slightly to Frederick finding him slightly bowing at the comment. “It is a title I wear with pride. Gods forbid us if one of us keeps appropriate amount of caution.”

He glanced down momentarily to himself, humming. Now that he thought about it, Frederick had a point. Though he came out as a harsh figure, he had a realistic perceptive of what to expect. If brigands were a common sight in these lands, then it would be no doubt that he probably suspected him of being a brigand in disguise as such. With the act he was playing, it would’ve made perfect sense.

“I have every wish to trust you, stranger. But my station mandates otherwise.” Frederick told the cloaked male, receiving a nod.

“I understand, sir. I would do no less myself.” He answered.

“So, do you remember your name now?” Lissa butted in, tilting her head.

The man quirked his lips, rubbing his neck. Honestly, his name hasn’t come back. No, it was still merged with the fog that held control of his subconscious. No, it was not going to come up any time soon. He sighed gently, receiving a worried frown from Lissa. He looked up momentarily to the sky, hoping something could come to mind. Even something temporary—wait—

“Soren,”

“Huh?” Lissa snapped her attention back up as the name still lingered on his lips. The male smiled lightly, placing a hand on his chest. “Though I may not remember my name, it’s not to say I can’t make up one. You can call me Soren in the meantime.”

“Soren? Is that foreign?” Chrom began, “…Ah well, we’ll discuss it later. Once we head back to town—”

“CHROM! THE TOWN!” Lissa had turned, pointing down the path with the three males turning. Columns of smoke ranged from the church and houses that neared the river. Even from a distance Soren could tell people were fleeing from establishments.

“Damn it! The town is blaze! Those blasted brigands no doubt!” Chrom lividly snapped. “Frederick! Lissa! Quickly!”

“But what about him?” Frederick gestured towards Soren and Chrom turned. “Unless he’s on fire too, it can wait!”

“Aptly put, milord,”

“Let’s go already!” Lissa hurried, already taking the lead with Chrom following in suite with Frederick. Soren held a hand out, calling out a quick, “Hey wait—”

Yet it was too late seeing that they rushed over the hill. Soren placed a hand to his chin, humming softly about the difficult situation he was being placed in. He doesn’t even know his own name, what could he do on a battlefield?

 _‘No, I know I can do something more,’_ Soren reassured himself.

Soren looked at his body, analyzing the dark cloak and the under clothing he wore. Wait, something was tucked in his cloak. He reached in, feeling a leather binding book had been tucked in. He removed it, opening the book to see what contents it held. It was strange, skimming through the book, it was as if he had read this a hundred times over. It wasn’t an ordinary book, it was a tome, the sort that contained ancient magic. Soren murmured the lines that formed in his head when the book glowed, a seal forming below his feet. He held a hand immediately up, finding a ball of electricity fling from the center of his palm. Now that was something worth fighting with. Soren stumbled back from the fading seal, snapping his attention back towards the town. It wasn’t much of another thought when he turned and began to sprint towards the town. Now that he knew he can fight, he also knew he could only go so far with a tome. He was going to need a sword too.


	2. Verge of History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter is out~
> 
> For the first few chapters it'll follow closely to the Awakening story-line before kind of getting more of the original work in there. So simply filler before we get into the dang action. All right, I hope you enjoy this~

_ “History is a set of lies agreed upon”  _

_ Napoleon  _

“Frederick, behind!” Chrom called out, heaving the falchion out of archer’s corpse. He had no worries over Frederick, finding the knight bury his lance into a brigand.

“Lissa, stay close to me!” Chrom ordered with his sister giving an affirmative nod. It was worse than they imagined. A group of 8 brigands had rampaged through South Town. It was rather troublesome to rid of the two they had encountered setting the stores aflame. There were still six others running about, one of them was bound to be their leader.

“Chrom, what about the civilians?!” Lissa pointed out but Chrom exhaled, “We need to rid of the brigands before we can completely focus on helping the town’s people.”

“Hmmm!” Lissa hummed in annoyance causing Chrom to drop his head forward, sighing softly.

“All right, Frederick! Come on—” An arrow pierced through the air and Chrom quickly shielded Lissa from being hit. He turned hastily, looking across the river to see a bowman posed for another attack. Chrom hissed, blocking another arrow. Lissa cried, pointing forward, “Chrom!”

It seemed the archer wasn’t alone on that side as a few civilians fled, chased by a man carrying a heavy axe. Chrom scoffed angrily, swiping his sword against another arrow and rushed towards the bridge. A gale ripped across the bridge however, knocking the young man back a good ten feet.

“Milord!” Frederick was the first to move, protecting Chrom from another strike.

Lissa was soon at his side, her staff glowing brilliantly before healing his minor wounds.

“A mage now too,” Frederick grimaced at the sight, swinging his lance forward. Chrom grunted, picking himself from the ground as he picked up his falchion. He was ready to take on the mage for himself. Yet from the corner of his eyes he could also catch the archer turning towards their directions, aiming. Chrom scoffed as he lifted his sword, joining Frederick’s side for combat.

“I’ll defend you from the archer while you handle the mage,” Frederick offered. Chrom nodded, his eyes set upon the mage, watching him flip open the tome.

Chrom was hastily to dodge the attack, easily sliding underneath, leaving the mage wide open. Yet, during this whole fiasco, trouble was still occurring that Frederick couldn’t ignore. On the other side of the bridge, a woman stumbled onto the ground, carrying a child closely to her. It was clear to see she was being chased, a brute brigand following with an axe over his shoulder. Frederick grimaced, wishing to rush to her aid but knew he had priority in protecting milord. Blast it! There was going to be a civilian causality if they didn’t get there in time. The Axeman was right overhead the woman, swinging his axe proudly to rest on his shoulder.

“Say g’night,” He sneered and swung the axe upwards.

“AHH!” The woman shrieked, shielding her child closely to her chest. Yet the axeman didn’t move, instead he tumbled slightly. The woman lifted her head finding a sword had been driven through his chest. She quickly covered her child’s eyes as the axeman tumbled over, his blood beginning to pool around him. She looked up to see a male heavily panting behind, removing the sword from the carcass.

“Go, you can run now, I’ll cover for you,” Soren informed her calmly.

The civilian looked at him nervously but nodded. She swallowed, picking her child up and hurrying past him as the bowman turned, aiming for Soren. Quickly lifting the tome, he casted the surge of lightning, completely catching the archer off guard. He was easily electrified, stumbling in place before falling over the railing into the river below. Soren exhaled heavily, wiping the sweat that trailed down his face. He looked over to the bridge, finding Chrom and Frederick with Lissa waiting close by.

“Chrom!” Soren called out.

Chrom lowered his guard momentarily, taken aback by the circumstances. Soren hurried over the bridge to reach the trio on the other side. Lissa smiled at the sight of the boy, waving him over as he finally was steps away. Soren hunched over, resting his hands on his knees in order to regain his breathe. He might have known how to fight but he didn’t have all the stamina in a fight.

“You followed us?” Chrom acknowledged, “but why?”

“I’m…I’m not sure myself…” Soren replied weakly, waving an arm at an attempt to hurry his recovery, “Something didn’t seem right leaving you guys to fight by yourselves. I mean, I know you’re perfectly capable I’m sure….but I knew I had to do something to help.”

“You can fight?” Chrom asked in astonishment. Soren swallowed and stood tall, meeting Chrom’s gaze. He rested the sword on the ground for emphasis, holding the tome with his other hand. If it wasn’t obvious by now, especially after nearly carving a hole into a brute moments ago, then holding out the weapons had to further the proof.

“It’s apparent I can,” Soren answered, flipping through the tome, “I know I may not be much, but I know how to formulate a plan, I can guide us through this fight.”

“A tactician?” Frederick reiterated. Soren nodded in agreement.

“Of course, strength in numbers after all—just stay close” Chrom agreed, rather easily. Easier than what Soren was expecting. Well, there was no time for explanations on a battle field.

“I should warn you Soren, you need to remember that these men we are facing are practiced thieves and murderers, they grant us no quarters, it’s either kill or be killed.” Frederick warned and Soren nodded.

“Yes, I shall keep that closely in mind.” Soren responded.  His eyes narrowed to the next bridge, his eyes narrowing. It was clear to tell that they were handling a good majority of the brigands as there was only six by the time Soren arrived. Who knew how many were here before they came. His eyes darted momentarily back to the trio, his curiosity beginning to peak. Who were these people?

“Was this all the brigands?”

“No, there’s still three left,” Chrom responded.

Their attention averted to across the river to find the remaining three brigands across the river, clearly ready for combat and their attention focused upon them. Looks like the boss remained with them as well, wielding a large axe that rested on his tattooed shoulder. Soren analyzed the remaining mercenary and mage, knowing with a simple set up, Frederick, Chrom, and himself could take them out without much of a thought.

“Is anyone hurt? It’d be foolish to leave a wound untreated.” Chrom acknowledged.

Frederick shook his head silently while Soren was the one to raise his hand. To get this sword was not an easy matter as it might have seen. It took a lot of effort, speed, and tactics….not to mention plain luck as he was able to snatch the sword from its owner, only leaving with a few scratches on the face. Chrom nodded, and turned seeing Lissa already marching over.

“Haha! Leave that to me~!” Lissa boosted proudly, walking to Soren and holding her staff up, “We’ll see whose delicate~” With a flick of her wrist, Soren could feel reenergized from the green glow emitting around him, exhaling in relief, “Thank you.”

“Mhmm!” Lissa smiled appreciatively and took a couple steps away from the trio, waving. “I’ll be over here!”

“All right Soren, do you have a suggestion on taking these three out?” Chrom decided to ask causing Soren to smirk gently.

“Judging from here, the mage can easily be taken out, just don’t engage him in far distance, he’ll have the upper advantage. I can easily handle him off, while Chrom can easily fend off the remaining mercenary here. Then Frederick can easily swoop in, finishing off the leader.”

“That sounds rather easy enough, we’ll be in a close proximity from each other that if needed, can assist one another.” Chrom recognized with Soren nodding. That was the idea in thought anyways.

“Are you all right with the plan Frederick?” Chrom called out.

The knight nodded with much less of a thought, already knowing his own strength. Soren and Chrom met each other’s gaze when the mage and mercenary positioned themselves on the bridge. It was a silent agreement when Soren rushed forward, throwing his hand out in the direction of the mage. The seal rumbled below his feet as the electrifying spell shot forward. The mage leapt to the side, nearly causing his own comrade to be hit by the spell. It was this stumble that allowed Chrom to charge in, catching the mercenary by surprise.

Now it was for divide and conquer.

Soren slid against the wooden flooring, easily brushing away the fire the mage casted. In mid-range combat the two would’ve been evenly matched, but fighting close combat—

“GAH!” The mercenary was cut down from behind, Chrom easily flicking his blade to the side as he casted his attention to Soren. Yet the tactician merely whirled around the flames and caught the tip of his blade down the neck of the mage, killing him without much resistance. Which left the perfect opening for Frederick to come charging in with his warhorse.

“Here sheepy sheepy, come to the slaughter,” The leader teased, beckoning his hand. Frederick remained un-phased by the taunt, swinging his lance out

“A knight of Ylisse would never fall to the likes,” Frederick retorted and easily dodged the thrown axe, lunging his lance into the chest of the leader.

“Hey! Are you all right, you can’t rush into danger like that.” Chrom chided as Soren scoffed gently, smiling at the concern over him. “I’m fine Chrom, don’t worry.”

Chrom however didn’t get rid of the concern, yet he smiled, patting his shoulder. “You’ve lent us your strength and that makes you a friend. Having an ally by my side gives me courage. I rather make sure you keep all your limbs intact.”

“Heh, I would hope so, there’s a tactical advantage in fighting alongside someone.” Soren informed, “It can help increase speed, protection, strength, morality.”

“Really? That’s rather useful to know,” Chrom admitted. Soren smiled back before looking over to the fallen leader, watching as Frederick brushed along the horse’s neck.

“Well, that’s the end of that,” Soren sighed in relief, wiping a brow. Lissa giggled, smiling warmly as she joined Soren’s side. “Lucky for the town, we were close by. But holy wow Soren! You were incredible!” Soren turned, raising a brow as Lissa smiled widely, resting a hand on her petite waist. “Swords, sorcery, AND tactics! Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Beside remember my own name, I’m sure there’s a few things I can add to the list. I’m flattered nonetheless,” Soren smiled gently as Chrom and Frederick joined by their sides. “You’re certainly no helpless victim that much is for sure.”

“Indeed. Perhaps you might even be capable of an explanation of how you came here?” Frederick pressed causing Soren to immediately become uneasy.

“I understand your skepticism, Sir Frederick. And I cannot explain why only some knowledge has returned to me. But please, believe me. I have shared all that I know.” Soren told him. Frederick’s settled stare had hardened once more and Soren’s heart dropped. He felt he was right back on Frederick’s cautious side again. Not that he can blame him. It was still far-fetched to believe a story such as his. Yet when a hand clamped on his shoulder, Soren couldn’t help but jump. Turning to find Chrom with a small smile, “You fought to save Ylissean lives. My heart says that’s enough.”

“And your mind, milord? Will you not heed its counsel as well?” Frederick countered. Chrom turned, keeping the firm, reassuring grip upon Soren’s shoulder.

“Frederick, the Shepherds could use someone with Soren’s talents.” Chrom explained, “We’ve brigands and unruly neighbors all looking to bloody our soil. Would you really have us lose such an able tactician?”

“Besides,” Chrom turned to face Soren, smiling “I believe his story, odd as it might be.”

Soren didn’t except any of the kind words on his part, finding himself slightly flustered over the matter. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling gently with a small smile. “Tha-Thank you, Chrom.”

“So how about it? Will you join us, Soren?” Chrom offered a hand. Soren blinked gently, darting his attention between Lissa and Frederick. Beside the scowl Frederick was wearing, Lissa seemed ecstatic by the news, nodding her head in the gesture that he should accept. It was strange, how he met these three on unlikely circumstances, now to be welcomed with open arms. Well, semi-open arms.

“I would be honored,” Soren smiled warmly, shaking Chrom’s hand firmly.

“Welcome aboard Soren, you’re officially a Shepherd.” Chrom announced with Lissa jumping in the background. “This is /great/! We’re going to have so much fun!” Lissa hugged Soren’s arm causing the tactician to almost loose balance, laughing gently.

“I’m not sure fun is the correct word to use, milady,” Frederick said.

Chrom laughed lightly at the comment, nodding in agreement. Lissa looked over Soren’s shoulder, sticking her tongue out playfully and grinned widely. It was finally then that civilians began to crowd the streets, thanking the four in their efforts of ridding the brigands. The bodies were taken away at Chrom’s request to be respectfully buried, and efforts to assist restoring the town were promised. Soren had stuck with Lissa and Frederick in the meantime, allowing Lissa to chat up a storm about the other Shepherds. It seemed this was no small game, there seemed to be eight others in this group from the sound of it. Soren didn’t press onto it but allowed Lissa to continue, stopping only when Chrom returned to the group.

“Did you notice, milord? The brigands spoke with a Plegian accent.” Frederick brought up causing Chrom to hum in agreement.

“Plegian? What’s that?” Soren requested.

Already he could catch Frederick looking at him and Soren’s gaze dropped away from his. Yet when he looked back, he could see a sort of pity through his eyes. Perhaps maybe he was finally realizing how he really was telling him the truth. Chrom turned, sighing gently and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Plegia is Ylisse’s westerly neighbor. They send small bands into our territory, hoping to instigate a war.” Chrom explained with a bit of an edge in his voice.

“And it’s the poor townsfolk who suffer! Totally innocent and totally helpless…” Lissa grimaced, looking around the battle-ridden town.

“They do have us, milady: Shepherds to protect the sheep. Do not be swept up in your anger. It will cloud your judgement.”

“I know I know. Don’t worry. I’ll get used to all of this.” Lissa exhaled calmly, a pose smile returning on her face. Soren blinked a few times, tilting his head.

“Milord! Wait!” The group of four turned to find a man rushing to them, “Please, you must stay the night!”

“Oh?” Chrom inquired.

“We are simple folk of simple means, but we would gladly toast your valor with a feast!” The man continued.

Frederick smiled, actually facing the man instead and bowed his head slightly forward. “A most generous offer, sir, and no doubt your hospitality would be grand…but I’m afraid we must hurry back to Ylisstol.”

“Dark meat only for me, medium well, and no salt in the soup. I simply—” Lissa was already ordering off to another man who was beside but only now took account of what Frederick had said. “Wait what?! We’re not staying?? But Frederick, it’s nearly dark!”

“When night falls, we’ll camp. Eat off the land, make our bed of twigs and the like...” Frederick chuckled in amusement while Lissa’s face crestfallen in disbelief, “I believe you mentioned you would be ‘getting used to this’?”

“Sometimes I hate you,” Lissa grimaced. Soren hummed softly, resting the tome back into his coat before laying a hand on his side.

“You’ve quite the stern lieutenant there.” Soren accredited, earning a displeasing groan from Lissa. “Yeah, well, ‘stern’ is one name for it. I can think of a few others!”

Chrom chuckled, shaking his head. “Frederick only smiles when he’s about to bring down the axe.”

Soren stiffened in place, already having a rather detailed imagery of Frederick wielding an axe. Something he hoped he would be far away from if the moment happened.

“Duly noted.” Sore acknowledged. A cough rang from Frederick’s direction, earning the three to turn away to focus on him. “You do realize I AM still present?”

Chrom laughed, “Oh, we realize.”

“Milord remains as amusing as ever,” Frederick sighed, “Now then, shall we be going?”

“All right, all right. Ready to go, Soren? The capital isn’t far.” Chrom exclaimed, looking over to the red-haired tactician. “Of course,” Soren smiled. “As long as we’re prepared with vulnerary and such, I don’t see any means for delay.”

“At least /someone/ had thought about that.” Frederick couldn’t help a sigh of relief. Soren awkwardly nodded in agreement as Lissa huffed, complaining she had gotten some while they were waiting for Chrom. Soren laughed lightly at the comment when he began to realize the new route he was about to embark on. Joining the Shepherds, had he imagined himself being thrown into such a whirlwind of events this quickly?

Soren was grateful however, they were giving him a second chance. Perhaps with their help he’ll remember what had happened to him before. Maybe he’ll come across someone that will know who he is. To think he has some family out there in the world gives him slight comfort. He had only hope he was merely lost.

“Come on Soren! You’re falling behind!”

“O-Oh right!”

Well, he wasn’t going to think much about it. For now, it was time to begin anew.


	3. The Arrival of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day late but nevertheless it is here! I was dealing with job opportunities so I may or may not have to change how many times I publish due to this. 60-80 hours work schedule here I come! Yaaaaaaaay. Anyways, this chapter turned out to be a bit longer than I expected! I hope you enjoy this one! Until next time!

Faith without Challenge is Nothing

“Is this over yet??” Lissa groaned.

For about three hours the four marched through, passing by nearby villages yet never stopping to one of them for rest—as much as Lissa begged for it. Frederick insisted that they could make as much footing that they can before the sun set. Yet even then, with the purple hues lingering the sky, they continued walking. Lissa continued to beg in the background for any solace in this madness but Chrom merely responded with that she was getting all the exercises she had lamented on during prior to joining him and Frederick on this mission.

Soren smiled gently at how comfortable it began to be around the trio, even Frederick seemed easier to walk beside. It was from here that tensions seemed to decrease between Soren and Frederick as they discussed over this war that the country Plegia wanted to start. As much as it seemed to make him more suspicious in the eyes of the knight, his curiosity was drawn to the idea of why would a kingdom want to start a bloodshed. Lissa piped into the conversation, calling their king to be the crazy reason for it. Their own king, it almost seemed absurd to imagine it but when Soren caught Chrom’s glance, he noticed how the flash of aggression by the mere mention of the Mad King. Perhaps he should attempt to refrain from continuing the conversation. Instead, Soren distracted Lissa asking about the other Shepherds causing her to gleam in excitement.

“Well, there’s Sumia, she’s really nice, though a total klutz. Maribelle is my best friend, we practically grew up with each other. She can come off pretty cold though but she’ll warm up to you….as long as you don’t do something dumb.”

“What classifies as dumb for her?” Soren dared to ask.

“Improper grammar, she reprimands anyone who doesn’t speak in a sophisticated manner.” Chrom joined, chuckling. Soren rubbed his neck, already making a mental note to speak as properly as possible. He would like one less person not to judge him right off the bat. Already trying to learn the names and characteristics of the other Shepherds was slightly giving him a headache. He sighed gently while Chrom turned to his direction, catching Soren’s eye.

“Speaking of names, Soren, where did you pull that one from?” Chrom questioned.

Soren hummed gently, holding his chin gently. Soren slowed down gently, pulling open his coat revealing the grayish tome. He held it up in Chrom’s direction causing the young man to hum in question. Chrom carefully took the book and examined it, quickly catching where Soren was inspired from. When Chrom didn’t even make a noise, Lissa and Frederick stopped walking momentarily, raising a brow.

“I believe it was my favorite tome, since the author’s name was the first thing I thought of,” Soren answered awkwardly, rubbing his arm gently. Lissa and Frederick seemed to peek over Chrom’s shoulder, now curious. It was Lissa who next grew shock, now shaking Frederick’s arm. It was clear the knight did not make the connection.

“Really? This tome was made by the head strategist of the Greil Mercenaries, the famed group the Radiant Hero once led???” Chrom acknowledged, “This can’t be real—”

“Or it could be totally real! This tome could go for a fortune!” Lissa called out, reaching out for the book while Chrom held the book out of her reach. “Soren was one of the Radiant Hero’s most trusted allies! Oh my gosh! Soren, where did you even get such a thing?!?”

“If only I could tell you, I would like to know for myself.” Soren answered with a chuckle.

“It’s highly unusual that you would come across such an object. Perhaps it’s a family heirloom,” Frederick suggested. Soren hummed in agreement, Frederick however met his gaze and already Soren already had a feeling he was suspicious again. He wasn’t going to convince this man anytime soon of his innocence. One day perhaps, but today was not that day.

“Well, whatever it is, the name seems to fit you perfectly,” Chrom admitted. Soren laughed gently, scratching the back of his neck as Chrom offered it back, quick enough before Lissa could attempt to lunge at the book. “Let’s focus on walking though, we still have time before it completely becomes dark.” Chrom acknowledged with Lissa huffing.

“But it’s already dark!” Lissa insisted. Chrom merely waved a hand.

“I can still see perfectly fine, it’s not dark yet.”

The four continued walking down the darkened path, now the sky completely darkening with only the half-moon in the sky offering any sort of light. Their travels had led them deep within the forest, the path they were on completely becoming merged with the roots of trees and leaves that began to disguise the path. If it wasn’t for Frederick leading ahead with his warhorse, they probably would have gotten lost by now. Soren continued to read his tome, flipping through the pages to make up time to learn about strategies. Beside the tome he had, it seems he had a book filled with strategy, plans, formulas, all complied into simple notes that he was able to understand. With this extra information, he can certainly make himself more of use in the next battles to come.

Finally Lissa stopped, halting the other three men in their tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Chrom concerned.

“I told you—it’s getting dark already!” Lissa scowled, retching back as the bugs swarmed, “Ech! And now the bugs are out! Noisy, disgusting bugs that buzz around and crawl all over and bite when—”

Lissa suddenly gagged, her hands flying to her mouth, “Agh! Won goph in mah mouph! BLECH! PTOOEY!” Lissa hacked as Chrom laughed gently behind. “Aw, come on now, Lissa. Hardship builds character. Want to help me gather firewood?” Lissa continued spitting, grimacing with her shoulders slumped and wiping her mouth, “I think I swallowed it—eck—i’ll pass on finding firewood.”

“Well, bugs are known to be nutritious.” Soren noted dryly. Lissa snapped her attention at Soren causing the tactician to look up momentarily. Did he say something wrong?

“See! I think I’ve built QUITE enough character for one day!” Lissa pounced in place causing Soren to sigh gently. Perhaps only aid in her efforts. A growl rumbled from his stomach and he winched lightly, already knowing his headache was only to increase. Gods, he hadn’t even noticed he was hungry all this time. Well, to be fair, he had merely awoken hours ago with no memories, stopped brigands raiding a town, and was marching all these hours, his mind had been well occupied.

“Well, we should think about food. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I don’t think bugs will suffice on nutrients for me.” Soren teased causing Lissa to turn, her cheeks tinted pink.

“HEY!” Frederick seemed to chuckle at that response, heeding his horse to a stop. “Yes, I should think a little hunting and gathering is in order. Now, who wants to clear a campsite?”

*************************

Soren and Lissa decided to clear a space for the camp, Frederick and Chrom volunteered to collect the firewood and hunt for something in the meantime. Clearing the space was easier than he had imagined, and took it upon himself to start the fire once Chrom had delivered the amount of wood needed. Finding he had actually had another tome on himself, Soren now used a Fire spell in order to light the wood. Lissa was impressed, settling herself near the fire and held her hands out to warm herself up. Soren had sat across from her, returning to his readings. It was not long when Frederick and Chrom returned, slugging behind a fairly….different sort of game then Soren expected.

“BEAR?!”  Lissa seemed aghast as Frederick and Chrom dropped the beast to the side. It seemed rather large too. Soren had briefly looked over from his book, calculating it might’ve been a maturing cub or a young adult. It still would’ve put up a great deal of a fight. However his eyes slowly fell upon Frederick, finding him cleaning out his lance before slowly burying his face into the paper. He could only imagine that Frederick dropped the axe on him. It was wise not to make eye-contact with him. Lissa groaned, sitting beside Soren as Frederick began working on cleaning the animal, working off all the hair and following the natural skin to slowly remove it from the muscles below.

“Eck…I hate bear,” Lissa remarked. Soren looked over to her before briefly looking to the site, nodding slowly. “I’m not sure what bear even tastes like….i’m sure it’s an experience.”

“I can tell you it’s quite one you’ll never forget,” Lissa grimaced. “Meat should not smell like old boots! Wait, I take that back—boots smell better.”

Soren laughed lightly causing the young woman to look at him, her lips pouting slightly. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh it’s nothing. You’re just passionate about that. It’s good, but it’s also to remember experience makes also grow stronger and wiser, even if we don’t enjoy it.” Soren explained to her.

Lissa hummed but nodded nevertheless. Her eyes continued to wander over to the meat. Frederick was certainly practiced when it came to fabricating as he managed to break apart the animal in about 10 minutes. It seemed clear that Frederick had a prior knowledge of this and as continued to fabricate the remainder of the meat onto skewers. They carried spices in another bag and finally it seemed the meat was finally staked by the ends of the fire, allowing the meat to cook along the tips of the flames. Soren hadn’t expected himself to stare so longingly as the meat seared and charred under the intense heat. Maybe he was hungrier than he had thought he was. Finally the meat was cooked and passed along the four of them. Chrom seemed to be eating faster than anyone else while Frederick and Lissa kept this unpleasant look their face at the sight of the meat.

“Mmm…it’s been too long since I last had bear meat. Delicious!” Chrom admitted. He caught sight of his younger sister though. “What’s wrong, Lissa? Dig in.”

Lissa grimaced at the sight of the skewered meat, sticking her tongue out in disgust.

“Pass! Gods, couldn’t you spear us an animal normal people eat for once?” Lissa demanded turning to Frederick, “I mean, come on! Who eats bear?! You’re meddling with the food chain! Right Soren?”

Soren tore at the charred corner, licking his lips of the succulent flavors. Frederick was the one to have seasoned this gamey meat but Gods, whatever he did was delicious. Soren didn’t even care if it was still a little on the medium side, he was absolutely starving. He really must have been on the verge of starvation the way he greedily ate the meal. From across him, Lissa seemed drop her shoulders in disappointment.

Lissa sighed, “I suppose a person would enjoy just about anything after not eating for days…”

“Just eat it Lissa, meat is meat.” Chrom chided with a smile. 

Soren continued to feast on the food, his mind starting to wander away from the conversation. To the expectations he may have soon enough. It shouldn’t be hard to organize a small group like this. They seemed to have their heart set in the right place. Lissa and Frederick seemed to have argued over the aspect of experience to what sounded like Frederick’s own distaste in gamey meats. It was rather ironic that he could roast something so well but not have the guts to try it. Finally the hours drew by as Chrom and Lissa had dozed off, with Frederick and Soren taking first watch. It would’ve been Soren taking the first watch……but Frederick clearly did not trust the man to do it alone. They remained sitting up, Frederick tending to the fire.

“You’re not going to remove your armor?” Soren questioned with a brow. “Isn’t that….uncomfortable?”

“It may be but out here in the wilderness, I would rather be armed to the tooth rather than scrambling for defense.” Frederick murmured. Soren hummed softly, crossing his arms behind his head. They shielded him from the cold ground and his eyes darted upwards to the starry sky. It felt…relaxing to be surrounded by people that he could trust.

“Soren, as I have your attention at the moment,” Soren looked over to face Frederick properly, raising a brow. “I need to have your word that you’re claims are true…” Soren’s expression soured and he properly sat up, facing Frederick and met his gaze.

“Sir Frederick, I do not mean you, Chrom, Lissa, or anyone else harm at all. That is not my intention. I honestly don’t remember anything—my name—my family—my own memories, none of them.” Soren’s voice dropped slightly, looking to the tome that rested beside him. He quirked his lips, holding the book up gently and brushing the surface of the cover gently. “To not have a purpose or a place to call home, I feel so lost right now. But as strange as the circumstances have unfolded, I feel like I have a new purpose, something I can work vigilantly for a greater good.”

Frederick didn’t turn away from his gaze but there was something that Soren wasn’t able to detect within his eyes. Soren hadn’t inched, afraid if he were to break that stone glance that Frederick would see nothing more than a liar. After moments of this tense staring, Frederick focused once more upon the fires that kindled.

“Soren, do not doubt that I don’t find your claims to be completely false. I can assume that something horrid had befallen on you to cause this terrible accident. I only say what I have to because I need to. So if I were to continue pursue the possibility of you being a traitor, it is only in my duty, not in my personal belief.”

Soren’s shoulders relaxed and he slouched slightly to relax his arm against the ground.

“No, I understand Sir Frederick the Wary.” Soren could see from the corner of his eye Frederick’s lips curled slightly into a smirk before flashing away as quickly as it came. Then a yawn rang from beside Soren and he looked over to find Chrom sitting up, yawning loudly again.

“I see you’re awake, milord.” Frederick acknowledged, tossing the stick into the fire. Chrom nodded and stretched his arms above his head. “You and Soren can rest now, I’ll take this watch.” Chrom informed the knight. Frederick nodded along with Soren and both had went down to rest.

It took some time but he finally settled down and went to sleep.

*************************

_Fog engulfed the world he was currently experiencing. The sweat that trailed his face had only increased as he took notice how hot it was. Flames began to lick around his body and screams began to pierce the very realm. Screams of people fleeing for their lives as their villages burned to the ground, strange moving warriors raising their weapons at the people that could not flee fast enough._

_What—what was this!?_

_The flames suddenly licked away from the burning village, now moving upon a vast castle with smoke pouring from an opened entrance. From a distance, soldiers combated against the strange warriors, causality guaranteed on both sides._

**_So ends the human race. The future is built upon the past…but your kind shall never see it!_ **

**_Hahahaha, your mother and father are dead—now it is your time to join their fate!_ **

_A woman’s scream pierced through the veil, invoking a horrible sense of demise within his being._

_*************************_

Soren abruptly sat up, gasping for air as he looked around. The woman, no wait, the beast, what—No, it was merely a dream. It had to be. Soren rubbed his face wearily, groaning softly into his palms. Yet when Soren’s eyes raised to the sky, he gasped, finding the night sky was alit in a hellish red. Fire, there was a fire. Soren was about to awaken Chrom when he looked over, noticing both Chrom and Lissa were both missing. No. Oh Gods, this was not good.

“Frederick! Frederick!” Soren had crawled over to the sleeping knight, shaking him rather aggressively. It was a matter of seconds before he bolted up. Then his eyes landed on Soren.

“What—”

“Chrom and Lissa are gone!” Soren informed him. Those names triggered Frederick to snap his attention over, heaving heavily at the site of the missing siblings. “Blasted!” Frederick slammed his fist upon the dirt, quickly heaving himself up and rushing over to his awakened warhorse. “Get on,” Frederick commanded.

Soren didn’t hesitate as he grabbed Frederick’s extended arm and hurled himself onto the warhorse. With a firm snap of the reins, his horse bolted down the darkened forest path. Even from their position within the woods, the intense heat of the flames could be felt. Something had happened, a tremor, an earth quake. Gods, how could they not feel that beforehand. Soren scoffed, pulling his tome from his pocket, looking around for any possible bandits or—wait. Soren’s eyes narrowed as he caught several bodies moving hastily towards their direction.

“What are those?” Soren noticed they all seemed to be carrying weapons.

“Frederick!” Soren had to grip him by his arm to get the paladin to turn his head. The monster was at their side, an axe raising right at them. The war horse neighed loudly as Frederick turned to slam his lance into the forehead of the man. He groaned before….evaporating into a violet fog. Frederick hissed, swinging his lance back as he checked the blade. Absolutely no blood. These were certainly not men, they seemed to be reanimated beings. Frederick snapped his attention back, seeing the rest of the group having turned their attention on the duo. The knight hissed, pulling at the reins and turned. Soren flipped through his tome and held his arm out.

“Thunder!”

One of the creatures fell, tumbling on the ground as Frederick’s warhorse bolted away. These warriors—monsters, moved faster than Soren could even imagine. Suddenly the horse bucked into the air, sending Soren falling off the stead while Frederick remained, somehow managing to settle his horse back on the ground. “Blasted! They’ve already surrounded us.” Frederick huffed, whirling his lance with a sturdy grip. Soren picked himself from the ground, holding the tome widely opened. They were outnumbered, with four of the monsters creeping in front of them and two others from behind. Soren narrowed his eyes, trying to find an escape route for at least Frederick to charge out in order to find Chrom and Lissa.

Yet as the two monsters from behind seemed to charge, Soren had only turned right in time to witness one of them being completely taken out. In a blur, the second one had been stabbed through the gut, the smog revealing—a young male. The sword withdrew and gestured behind to the opening that was behind. The flames seemed to illuminate brightly from over there. Frederick had now turned as well, already on guard against the new stranger.

“Go, I’ve cut a path,” The male spoke quickly, “Your friends are there.”

Chrom and Lissa. Soren and Frederick met each other’s gaze before looking down the path to the young male. Soren narrowed his eyes, attempting to study out the person in front of them. Even from the darkness it was apparent that he was fairly skilled with a sword. Yet why did he come all this way to help them? Who was he?

“Soren, let’s go, we need to reach the others.” Frederick’s harsh tone snapped Soren from examining any further. He quickly took the male’s extended arm and gripped onto the saddle. With a fierce tug, the warhorse sprinted past the young male. Soren snapped his attention back, watching as the young male took a stance…strikingly similar to Chrom’s…before engaging against the rest of the monsters. Soren sighed gently before looking ahead. The duo finally made it out of the forest and found indeed Lissa and Chrom were out here.

“Milord! Milady! Are you hurt?” Frederick called out loudly.

“Frederick! Soren!” Lissa’s cries were apparent from even their distance as the warhorse covered ground. Moments after, Soren found himself slipping off and rushing over, panting gently. The scene at hand seemed up right fictional, the lava that scorched the land creating a wall from the monsters that seemed to wade in front of them. It seems they were beginning to spread in numbers, a rather horrifying thought to imagine if they continued to spread.

“Are such horrific creatures commonplace in these land??” Soren demanded.

“They’re not from Ylisse, I promise you that.” Chrom answered curtly.

When Frederick finally settled his horse down, he slid off his horse, looking to the three. “No one is injured, then? Thank the gods….”

“Thank the masked man who saved me! If it wasn’t for him I’d be…hey where did he go?” Lissa spun around while Chrom looked as well. Frederick and Soren shared a glance, now recalling the person they had briefly past to in the woods, the one that gave them the path to cut across and head towards Chrom and Lissa. So it seemed the masked man was fighting on their side.

“We can worry about him later, AFTER we put these things…to the blade.” Frederick declared. 

“Lissa stay with Frederick, do you hear me?” Lissa nodded at Chrom’s request, reaching out for the knight’s extended arm and was easily pulled upon to sit behind the knight. After that trauma, she would stay close to the man who would stake any of those monsters from even laying a finger on her.

“Captain Chrom! Wait! I’m coming!” Chrom reeled back on his attack, Soren quickly taking the shot of lightning that easily eradicated the monster.

Both the men turned when heavy hoofs followed with a loud and aggressive yell. It seemed a creature was coming from behind yet before it could even raise its blade, a lance had speared through its neck. The creature gargled before evaporating in a dark haze. What was left behind was a brown stallion, and a woman adorned in full red armor. Unlike’s Frederick’s steed, her steed was not covered as nearly much armor, already suggesting that she was a lower rank knight.

“Agh, I knew I shouldn’ta left you guys.” The woman crudely remarked, swiping her lance out. “All right, you ash-faced freaks! Who else wants to try my lance on for size!”

“Sully, good seeing you again,” Chrom remarked causing the woman behind him to scoff. “Honestly Chrom, I should be sticking this right up your—”

“Hold, milady!” Now the three had turned to find another man rushing out of the woods. Unlike Sully, he wore a more regal attire.

“Muh?”

“Life may be long, but attraction is fleeting! Would you leave me in your sweet dust? Leave war to the warriors, dear bird! A beauty such as you need wage only love.” The man proclaimed, his accent clearly foreign to that of Ylisse.

“….The hell are you?” Sully demanded.

“Ha! Is the lady intrigued? Of course you are—it’s only natural. I am myth and legend! I am he who strides large across history’s greatest stage! The man who puts the “arch” in “archer”! My name, dear lady, is Vi—”

“Uhh…shouldn’t we focus on the battle at hand?” Soren gestured back to the creatures that had made great distance, nearing them by only 100 feet.

“Sorry, Ruffles—no time for this. Onward!” Sully snapped the reins, now charging forward into battle as the regal man was left in a stump.

“Virion! Er my name! It’s Virion! Where are you going?! Pray at least tell me your name!”

“Um…I think she’s long gone Virion, perhaps another time?” Soren offered as the pompous man sighed, “Please then, gentlemen, allow me to accompany you, at least! For without her, mine is a cold, empty world…” Virion lamented.

“I’m sure she’ll love to hear you say that to her afterwards,” Chrom joked, “But I see you have bow and arrows at arm.”

“I, as it happens, am an archer! The archest of archers, in fact. As such, I attack most effectively from a distance so kindly keep me one step away from peril, and I shall do the same for you.” Virion retrieved an arrow from his back, pulling the arrow hastily from the bow with an aim and launched it. Both Soren and Chrom whipped their heads behind them, finding that the arrow had hit its target, killing another of those creatures.

“Point taken,” Chrom admitted. Soren already patted Chrom’s arm, nodding gently. “Change of tactics, go and assist Sully Chrom, Virion and I shall give you cover from behind,”

Chrom nodded in agreement, hurrying over to catch up with the knight. She aggressively was knocking monsters left and right as Chrom followed behind with the finishing land. Soren instructed Virion briefly and the noble seemed to understand, quickly taking to action as he shot at the monsters that were making their way from the distance.

“Beautiful, no?” Virion admired while Soren sighed, shaking his head as he flipped his tome open. “Thunder!” Another creature had been taken out without a hitch. With the four on offense and Frederick easily destroying any that choice to come close, it was within minutes that the enemy’s numbers were slashed to the last one. Finally, the battle came to the end as the final beast had disappeared from sight, leaving the remaining Shepherds panting. Taking a few moments of the silence, Lissa was quick to slip off from Frederick’s steed, hurrying over to heal those that had been injured, not without greeting Sully warmly.

“It seems the all the creature are vanquished. The young man here took care of the others.” Now eyes were directed to the man that had returned from the forest. He had remained absolutely quiet as the others merely glanced amongst each other before landing on him again.  A strange man that arrived at a strange time. He certainly was useful in battle but he didn’t participate with them in combat. A lone wolf it seemed.

“Um, I never got to thank you…for before. So thank you. You were very brave.” Lissa thanked kindly, her cheeks tinted pink. Chrom smiled as well, nodding his head forward as thanks.

“You saved my sister’s life. My name is Chrom. Might I ask yours?”

“You may call me Marth.” The young man answered.

“Marth? After the heroic king of old?” Chrom smiled, “You certainly fight like a hero. Where did you learn your way with a sword?”

“I’m not here to talk about me.” The man cut in, “This world teeters at the brink of a horrible calamity. What you saw tonight was a prelude. You have been warned…”

”Huh? What’s teetering where now?! Wait!” Lissa slumped as Marth turned away, walking away from the group and eventually out of sight. “Not much for conversation…” Soren acknowledged. Lissa sighed, a blush still etched on her face as she crossed her arms, sighing softly. 

“It appears his skills lie elsewhere. I wager we’ll hear his name again…but for now I’m more concerned about the capital. We should make haste.” Frederick suggested. Sully brushed along her horse's neck, sighing. “Wait, what about Ruffles here?” Sully demanded, pointing to the man, clearly ignoring his flirtation habits and proclaiming his wishes for her to marry him. It looked like she was ready to kick the man down to the ground. Repeatedly. Chrom turned to Virion, humming softly, “He can come along as well, he certainly proved his worth out there in the battle.”

Sully scoffed, her face souring at the answer while Virion’s absolutely lit up. “I shall be your most willing servant, and you, in turn, will give my life purpose~”

Sully groaned, snapping at her reins to join along Frederick as the group began to march towards Ylisse, “Anything to shut you up!”


	4. New Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is out folks, so short and sweet...ugh...I can't find apartments in Phoenix, Arizona. Ugh, i'm not made of money world. Not made of money. If any body has random advice, i'd appreciate it. BUT ANYWAYS. ENJOY THE STORY EVERYONE~

“So this is Ylisstol, capital of Ylisse. I’ve never seen so many people!”

Soren looked around in awe at the crowds of people that flooded the streets. The shops were opened and flourishing proudly as consumers were flocking the stands. The group of six managed to weave themselves through the crowd, Virion needing a good smack on the head once he began to flirt with _every single_ woman on the street. Sully was dragging the noble by the collar, huffing angrily about the circumstances that had befallen on her. Frederick remained on foot with his horse pacing behind, his attention scanning the entire street.

“It appears the capital was spared the chaos we encountered, thank the gods.” Frederick sighed in relief, guiding his horse by the reins, “I see no evidence of the great quake. It must’ve been limited to the forest.”

“Well that’s a relief!” Lissa agreed. “That would’ve one heck of a mess.”

“No doubt, with all these people as well—” Soren’s voice was drowned out as the crowd had begun to murmur loudly, cheering following shortly after. Soren blinked widely as both Frederick and Sully moved their horses to the side—as if it was second nature. “Look! The Exalt has come to see us!” Further down the street, the crowd had begun to part from the middle of the street, clapping widely as a group of what seemed to be royalty was approaching. A young woman, no younger than her mid-twenties was being led by knights with Pegasus as their steeds. Judging by the adorning crown that haloed behind her golden locks, she seemed to be the Exalt of Ylisse.

“The exalt is your ruler, yes?” Soren turned with a raise brow as Frederick followed his gaze, “Ah, yes. Her name is Lady Emmeryn.”

“Is it safe for her to walk among commoners like this?” Soren questioned. Frederick sighed but ultimately nodded in agreement.

“The Exalt is a symbol of peace—Ylisse’s most prized quality. Long ago, at the dawn of our age, the fell dragon tried to destroy the world. But the first exalt joined forces with the divine dragon and laid the beast low,” The Exalt stopped, bending down to the children that called for attention. They seemed extremely excited as she brushed their heads, blessing them with Naga’s safe-guard. “Exalt Emmeryn reminds us all of the peace we fought for then.”

“With Plegia poking at our borders, the people need her. She’s a calming presence, when some might otherwise call for war.” Chrom added, resting against the wall as he kept a careful eye on the Exalt. Soren blinked, admiring the young woman at hand. She seemed to be thrown a very large responsible at such a young age. It seemed the King and Queen had passed away, leaving her to rule the entire halidom at its greatest time of need.  

“Then the Ylissean people are indeed lucky to have her.” Soren remarked. Lissa giggled in agreement, swinging her arms, “She’s also the best big sister anyone could ask for!”

Soren smiled, nodding slowly in agreement. The woman seemed to be remarkable at this age to be ruling an entire halidom, especially with siblings such as Chrom and Lissa, “Yes, I imagine she…” Soren choked on his words, suddenly his thoughts piecing together what Lissa had said. “Wait, what? She’s your…s-sister?” Soren stuttered.

“But wouldn’t that make you and Chrom…?” Frederick laughed positively at this point, “The prince and princess of the realm, yes, you remember Chrom’s name and not this?” Frederick asked but Soren’s shoulders slumped at the idea that he’s been traveling with royalty this whole time. The way that Chrom and Lissa acted did not seem anything that royalty should be like. While Lady Emmeryn seemed to have this vibe of holiness, pureness and goodness, Chrom and Lissa were much more approachable, joking around teasing Frederick around constantly. It didn’t seem like what normal royals would act like. Soren gritted his teeth lightly.

 “Wait—I thought you were shepherds?!” Soren stumbled upon his words when Frederick chuckled besides, already having the idea of what Soren was going to say. “And so we are…in a manner of speaking. We just have a LOT of sheep.” Chrom joked, nudging Soren’s side. Yet at this point Soren nearly was ready to throw himself on the ground and beg forgiveness of his actions.

“C-Chrom—I mean, prince Chrom! Sire!” Soren slapped his hands to his face, groaning loudly. They were royalty. Gods, he’s been acting quite the fool. “Forgive my dreadful manner…”

“Just Chrom is fine. I’ve never been much for formalities.” Chrom laughed as Soren peeked through his fingers. “The prince and princess….gods.” Soren rubbed his face, allowing the new information to sink in, “that explains why Frederick tolerates all the teasing, eh?”

“Indeed. Oh, the sacrifices I make for the good of the realm….” Frederick exasperated with Lissa giggling mirthfully. Chrom smiled before looking to see the crowds dispersing with the Exalt Emmeryn having turned completely to return to the large castle that waited down the path.

“It looks like Emm is returning to the palace. Would you like to meet her?” Chrom turned to Soren with a smile as he stood there dumbfounded at the offer. Meet Lady Emmeryn, the becon of peace and hope in Ylisse? Yes. Just yes. The honor is too great.

“Of course we would love to accompany thee to see the radiant, gorgeous Exalt—” Virion’s collar was grabbed from behind with Sully gently tugging the reins of her horse to follow. “No ruffles, you’re not allowed, you’re comin’ with me to the Garrison. Need to get you all settled in.” Sully enforced. Virion lost his composure momentarily while Frederick turned to Sully before the woman could leave the vicinity.

“Sully, would you mind taking Tulpar back as well. Sumia insisted on brushing his mane when we had returned.” Frederick told Sully. The red-haired woman laughed heartily, snatching the reins from the knight. “Of course she said something like that. Fine Commander, here—” Now she handed her own reins to Virion as she slapped his shoulder. “At least you can be some use here. We’ll meet back with you guys later in the Garrison.”

“Later Sully!” Lissa waved energetically as Chrom gestured for them to follow as the four now continued on to the castle.

*************************

Heading up the ridiculously enormous amount of stairs that took them quiet a distance from the town, they were met with large, spacious courtyard that was lined with the Pegasi knights. Many seemed to be idly at guard while it seemed some recruits seemed to be running through the further most corner of the courtyard. Many saluted once the group was in sight causing Soren to slightly tuck his collar up to hide his face. It was quickly becoming a reality that Chrom and Lissa were indeed royalty. He was settling with the idea better but now he understood better than ever why Frederick was so on guard. Probably why he’s still on guard even to this moment. Finally entering into the castle, they were met with a open, wide hallway with chandeliers that shimmered above.

Following down past the columns and mauve carpet, there stood the Exalt, talking carefully to the woman in armor beside her. Perhaps that was the captain of the knights or at least the captain of the Pegasus knights. Emmeryn’s eyes casted towards the groups direction and a warm smiled enveloped her lips.

“Chrom! Lissa! Welcome home! Oh and good day to you, Frederick,” Emmeryn bowed her head down slightly as Frederick rested a hand over his chest, bowing. Lissa however immediately greeted her sister with a hug as the elder returned the hug, giggling.

“How fared you all?” She asked.

“Well—we shouldn’t have any bandit problems for a while.” Chrom reported, smiling. Emmeryn returned the smile, nodding. “Wonderful. And our people?”

“Safe as can be. But we still need to watch the borders. The brigands crossed over from Plegia.” Emmeryn’s smile faded slightly as she retained her straightened posture, folding her hands over each other. The woman beside closed her eyes, bowing her head slightly forward.

“Forgive me, milord. My Pegasus knights should have intercepted them.” She responded. Looks like she was the Captain of the Pegasus knights after all. Chrom shook his head from her response though as he rested a hand on her shoulder.

“No, Phila. Your duty was here, with the Exalt.” Chrom told her. Lissa giggled as she punched the air childishly. “And besides, we had it handled.” Lissa reassured.

“Ah, you speak of your new companion here?” Emmeryn’s kind gaze now was on Soren has he straightened his posture immediately. She smiled softly as Chrom turned to face him, smiling as well.

“This is Soren, he fought bravely with us against the brigands. I’ve decided to make him a Shepherd.” Chrom announced as he patted Soren’s back, earning a grunt from the tactician. Soren however remained with a positive attitude when the Exalt seemed to be making direct eye contact with him, her smile never fading. She truly had a radiant, kind vibe that didn’t make her entirely approachable.

“It sounds as though Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude, Soren.” Emmeryn thanked.

“Not at all, milady! Ah, no, really, it was simply the right thing to do,” Soren scratched his cheek, averting his eyes away from her as she smiled warmly at the response. Jeezes he felt like he was blushing like an idiot already. A cough rang from beside and Emmeryn’s gaze was torn away to the stoic Frederick as he bowed slightly. “Forgive me, Your Grace but I must speak. Soren claims to have lost his memory, but it is only that; a claim.”

Soren stiffened at the sound of the accusation but exhaled shakily, already noticing Chrom snapping his attention to Frederick with narrowed eyes. No, Frederick had his reasons for this, he explained it quite clearly at the camp fire. He had no personal agenda against him, it was only a matter of duty as being the royal guard to the prince and princesses of this realm. It was clear that as a knight of Ylisse, no, the knight that defended the royal family, this was his utmost priority.

“We cannot rule out the possibility that he is a brigand himself or even a Plegian spy.” Frederick finished. Chrom gritted his teeth lightly before turning to face his sister once more. Her smiled faded slightly yet she kept the calm pose.

“Yet you allowed him into the castle, Chrom,” She focused her attention on her brother, “Does this man have your trust?” She asked. Chrom met her gaze, never once hesitating as he nodded.

“Yes. He risked his life for our people, Emm. I say that is more than enough to gain my trust.” Chrom answered. Emmeryn then turned her attention back on Soren, her eyes examining every inch of him. Soren did the best he could with keeping eye contact with her when seconds later, she smiled.

“Well then, Soren…it seems you’ve earned Chrom’s faith, and as such you have mine as well.” She told him. Soren exhaled heavily, almost feeling the boulder fall off his shoulders.

“Milady…” Soren bowed in respect at the utter kindness. Her smile never passed as she even moved her attention to Frederick, bowing her head.

“But thank you, Frederick, for your prudence as always.” Emmeryn thanked, “Chrom and Lissa are blessed to have so tireless of a guardian. I do hope they remember to mention that from time to time…”

“They occasionally express something akin to gratitude, Your Grace.” Frederick replied with a bow. Soren could only imagine the akin was all the teasing that Chrom and Lissa put Frederick through. The man should be rewarded with a medal of honor at this point of his career. His eyes then fell upon Phila.

“Phila, I assume you’ve heard about the deathly creatures we encountered, yes?” Frederick questioned. Phila frowned, nodding gently. “Yes, milord. They’ve been sighted all across Ylisse.” All across Ylisse?

Soren frowned at the thought of those terrible monsters raging across the continent. He hoped that whatever was causing this situation would be dealt swiftly. Or at least find out the source of all these mysterious monsters and how they came here.

“It is concerning, now that it is an added endangerment to our people,” Emmeryn admitted with a soft sigh. She turned to look over at her brother.

“Chrom, we are about to hold council. I was hoping you could join us.” She expressed as Chrom nodded his head rather quickly, “Of course.”

Lissa hummed loudly, clutching onto Soren’s arm suddenly. Soren almost stumbled back at the mere force that she had grabbed him causing her to giggle.

“I think that’s our cue, Soren! C’mon, there’s a place I want to show you!” Lissa insisted. Soren didn’t really have much choice as Lissa basically dragged him down the hall. Rushing past maids and servants alike, they were now in the behind the castle, running past extensive training between random knights sparing while an elder commander looked on.

“Are these the knights of Ylisse?” Soren questioned as Lissa nodded energetically. “Yup! Oh—here!!” Lissa tugged Soren’s towards a large, built tent. They entered through the flap, Soren nearly loosing his stepping as he was meant with a large amount of supplies, weapons stacked neatly in one corner, crates, it seemed like one giant war room.

“Here we are! The Shepherds’s garrison!” Lissa extended her arms out proudly, “go on, make yourself at home!” Soren walked in, his eyes scanning around as the woman and man behind Lissa turned. Yet the one that didn’t need to present herself was the woman bolting up from her chair on the other side of the room.

“Lissa, my treasure! Are you all right? I’ve been on pins and needles!” The woman hurriedly rushed over, stopping only steps away from the young princess and elegantly walked over to her, giving her a brief hug.

“Oh, hey, Maribelle!” Lissa greeted the young woman. Maribelle in turn frowned distressfully, holding her parasol carefully. “Oh. hey,” yourself! I’ve sprouted fourteen grey hairs fretting over you!” Maribelle rebunked causing the young princess to laugh.

“Aw, you worry too much. I can handle a battle or two!” Lissa smiled widely yet her face soured, “Although I could do without the bugs and the bear barbecue…”

“Hey, squirt! Where’s Chrom?” The man interrupted from behind. Lissa pouted, resting her knuckles against her waist. “I bet he had a rough time out there without ol’ Teach and his trusty axe!”

“Oh so you’re ‘Teach’ now Vaike, is that it? And here I thought people were just born lacking wits. It can be taught?” Lissa mocked.

“Ha! Never doubt the Vaike!” Seconds passed before Vaike’s proud stance slacked, “Wait, was that an insult?”

“Beg pardon, but when might we see the captain?” The woman beside entered the conversation, fiddling with her fingers.

“Poor Sumia. She’s simply been beside herself with concern. Her eyes were scanning the horizon all day during training. She might have earned fewer bruises fighting blindfolded.” Maribelle noted causing Sumia to blush in embarrassment.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you to worry about Chrom, Sumia.” Lissa acknowledged.  Sumia flustered, smiling softly. “Worry? Well, I…he’s our captain and our prince—of course I’d worry!”

“So who’s the stranger?” Vaike looked over now to Soren, smirking lightly. Lissa however rolled her eyes, waving her hand at the comment, “No one’s stranger than you, Vaike.”

“HEY!”

“BUT allow me to introduce Soren, tada! He just joined the Shepherds! Chrom’s made him our new tactician. You should see all the tricks he’s got up his sleeve!” Lissa introduced. Soren waved as Sumia smiled.

“Oh, so he was the gentleman Virion was speaking of,” Sumia acknowledged as Vaike waved his hand at the comment. “Oh yeah? Can he do this?”

Vaike let out a large burp while the three ladies grimaced at the sound, Soren merely chuckled. He surely was an interesting fellow. “Yes, thank you for the warm greeting, and I’m sure I have much to learn in the belching arts, ‘Teach.’” Soren acknowledged, “In any case, it’s a pleasure to make all of your acquaintances.”

“Ugh, Vaike! That was abhorrent! Must you baseborn oafs pollute even the air with your buffoonery?” Maribelle sneered, snapping her attention away from Vaike. Yet they now focused on Soren, a scowl permeant upon her face. “And you Soren! Don’t encourage him! I’d hoped you were cut from finer cloth! Hmph!” Maribelle snapped her attention away again, huffing and walked away from the four.

Sumia sighed, brushing her braided locks away from her face. “Don’t take it to heart, Soren. Maribelle warms to people slowly.” Lissa however giggled, rubbing her neck sheepishly.

“Or burns too quickly! Heehee! But yeah, just give her time.” Lissa encouraged. “Plenty of time at that matter, it took her ages to just stop harassing me,” Chrom’s voice rang and everyone turned to find the young price entering.

“Ah! Captain you’ve returned!” Sumia began, a flash of red crossing her face. “I was—I mean, we were so—” She stepped forward and not a moment sooner, she had tripped on thin air, smacking onto the floor. Chrom and the others hissed at the hard slam against the ground but Soren was the first one to rush over, assisting the young woman to her feet asking if she was all right. She quickly got up, brushing along her legs, her blush brighter than before.

“Sumia! Are you all right? Those boots of yours again?” Chrom asked, as if this was really a common thing with Sumia. Sumia sighed, scratching her cheek. “No—I mean yes! I mean….” She sighed again with Chrom rubbing the back of his head. Regaining his composure, he turned to the rest of the group.

“All right, listen, everyone; in the morning we’ll be marching to Regna Ferox.”

“Regna Ferox?” Soren repeated.

“A unified kingdom to Ylisse’s north. Inhabited by barbarians, or so it’s said.” Sumia explained to him. Chrom nodded in agreement, resting a hand to his waist.

“Warriors are what they are, and we’ll need their strength to quell this new menace. Typically, the Exalt would request such aid in person. But given recent events...” Chrom trailed off slightly as Soren seemed to pick up on what Chrom's thoughts were lingering to. 

“The creatures?” Soren asked. Chrom nodded. “The people might worry should my sister suddenly leave the capital. So the task has been passed to us.” Chrom looked at the group again, “Now, this mission is strictly voluntary. So if, for any—“

“I volunteer!” Lissa snapped her hand up, waving it lightly. “Me too! You’ll be needin’ ol’ Teach along for such a delicate mission!” Vaike boosted. Chrom rolled his eyes slightly as did Lissa. “I’ll go as well.” A man suddenly said. Soren and Lissa jumped, both turning to find a large man in a suit of armor had joined them. “AHH! Kellam! You scared the heck out of me! Don’t pop up like that!” Lissa scowled.

“…What? I’ve been here the whole time!” Kellam attempted to defend himself. Yet in a few seconds he was gone again, much to Soren’s disbelief. He swore he could hear a sigh of defeat ring from where Kellam once stood.

“I…I, um…” Sumia stuttered.

“Yes, Sumia?” Chrom requested. She flushed, looking down to her hands and sighed softly. “It’s just that I’m not sure I’m quite ready for a proper mission just yet. I’d probably just get in the way.” Chrom smiled understandingly, nodding slowly. “Well, you could stay behind the main group and if a battle is met, just watch and learn? Your choice, of course.” Chrom offered, “But some lessons can only be learned on the battlefield.”

“W-well, if you think it wise, Captain.” Sumia said.

“Just stay by me and you’ll be fine.” Chrom smiled as Sumia returned the smile.

“Oh, yes! I mean—Yes, sir, I’ll do that!” Sumia flushed, smiling. Chrom nodded while he dismissed the team, nearly getting interrupted with Sully came in, stomping her way towards Soren’s direction as Vaike slowly came up next to him, whistling at the sight.

“Oh boy, she looks on fire.” Vaike commented, nudging his ribcage. Vaike was quick back away from the unexpecting Soren.

“Soren, tell ruffles he needs to lay off or else I’m going to break his nose,” Sully threatened Soren, picking him up by his collar. Soren gritted his teeth, grabbing onto her wrists for support. “How is this my fault?!”

“Sully, I’ll handle Virion, Soren is still taking into all the new surroundings. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t even really talked with him either…” Sumia explained to the abrasive woman, catching her attention. Sully hummed judgingly, looking back directly to Soren. “Hmm, all right, sorry about that.” Sully let him down onto his feet. Sumia sighed in relief, nodding to Sully before stepping out, followed by Lissa who insisted on joining the older woman. “Soren, right?”

“Ah, yes,” Soren rubbed his neck, “Thank you Sully, I’m sorry Virion has been harassing you this whole time.”

“It’s not harassing, he’s just annoying. He’s getting in the way of my training.” Sully explained, waving a hand. “its fine, Sumia has it handled. She has a way with people.” Sully sighed, running a hand through her red locks.

“Still, now that I’m the tactician of the group, it’s my responsibility to see how well everyone works together—”

“So start that tomorrow,” Vaike slapped a hand to his back, earning another grunt from him. “You get to show us all your tricks tomorrow during the real deal. That’s the best time for it!”  

“Vaike has a point,” Sully agreed, “Relax Soren, come on, it’s meal time anyways, and Stahl is cooking with Maribelle.”

“Eck…” Vaike turned his head to the side, already his tanned complexion looking a bit pale in comparison. “She’s cooking again? Ugh, maybe the Vaike won’t have to add the whole container of salt if Stahl is cooking too.”

“Hey, it’s better than my cooking so tough it up.” Sully chided to which Vaike’s shoulders dropped. “I’m still recovering over the last food poisoning…” Soren raised a brow as Vaike’s face seemed to turn a shade lighter at that very moment. He didn’t look well at all. Sully rolled her eyes, gesturing for the males to follow after her.

“Come on, let’s go eat, we march tomorrow.”


	5. Shepherd's Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is up, acting sort of as a filler but it does give a chance for lovely Soren to get to know everyone. Fun chapter to do and right on time too. I hope you all enjoy this, leave comments on how to improve if you have any if not, thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!

_Every story I create, creates me. I intend to create myself_

Octavia E. Butler

“Is everyone ready?” Chrom’s voice called out, “We’ve a long march ahead.”

The sun was finally upon them after a long, almost sleepless night. No nightmares had occurred for Soren this time, it was Vaike’s gruesome snoring that kept the young man awake. Past the snoring, it was also the anticipation for the next day. This is his first time acting as the tactician for the Shepherds. He was buried in his book after dinner, formulating plans and ideas of how to handle the potential bandits or monsters that were lurking around. The Shepherds so far consisting of Lissa, Vaike, Sully, Virion, Frederick, Chrom and Soren. Sumia was stationed not far behind, guarding along the carriage that carried the supplies to set up for camp.

They had marched an hour before dawn had cracked, making good timing as it would take a few more hours to reach Regna Ferox. The group had decided to take a half an hour break in order to figure out what position they were on the map. At this point, Soren was beginning to feel the tug for sleep nipping at the corner of his eyes but he knew better, focusing on his book instead. It wasn’t going to take so long after they cross the bridge to the next village that bordered along the Regna Ferox territory.

The information in the book was beginning to slowly impend in his mind. The notes in the book specifically helped with his memorization though he wondered curiously if they were written by himself or someone else. It was written in a fairly legible calligraphy in a unique ink he had noticed was different than the ones they used in Ylisse, it was strange, he wasn’t able to exactly figure out where it might have came from. Perhaps when they returned from Regna Ferox he would ask Chrom or Lissa to search amongst the library where such a style would exist.

“W-Wait for me!”

Nearly everyone turned finding another stallion galloping through the fields, coming to a speedy stop. His rider leapt off, adorned in a full, body armor such as Sully wore but in a green hue. Soren blinked slowly, almost surprised to recognize it was Stahl, the young gentleman who was cooking dinner last night. Soren had managed to be introduced rather briefly to him by Sully but was whisked away for a night of getting to know some of his comrades.

“Stahl?” Chrom acknowledged, arching his brows in confusion, “You’re a little late to the march.”

“Sorry Captain,” Stahl rubbed his face, groaning lightly, “Why am I the last one to hear about the expedition to Ferox?”

“Huh? Vaike was supposed to…” Lissa eyes narrowed hastily, now direction her attention to the brute beside her, picking his teeth slightly before he noticed her gaze. “Vaike! Did you forget to tell Stahl about our mission?”

“The Vaike never forgets!” Vaike responded, rubbing the back of his neck, “I just don’t always remember, is all….”

“Ugh…” Lissa slapped her forehead, groaning tiredly at his antics, “I swear, you’d forget your own name if you weren’t constantly saying it yourself!! Speaking of which, are you SURE you remembered your axe this time?” Lissa demanded. Vaike scoffed, slapping his back to indicate the heavy weapon was lingering there. He clearly was not amused as he turned to fully face Lissa.

“Hey! That was one time—okay, twice, but training sessions don’t count.” Vaike defended only to cause Lissa to roll her eyes once more. “Anyways, I got it right here. Teach is loaded and ready for action!”

Vaike now turned to Stahl, smiling, “Glad to have you along, Stahl, ol’ buddy.”

“That makes one of us. I was in such a hurry, I had to miss breakfast! There were muffins, and cakes, and…” Stahl shoulders slumped as he sighed. “Well, I can tell you all about it while we march…”

Chrom nodded in agreement as he called out for everyone to get ready to march in the next five minutes. Things were collected and everyone was soon back to walking through the open fields of the northern Ylisse continent. Many hills and trees lined along the paved path towards Regna Ferox, clearly the weather still favoring the particular warmth Ylisse is known for. Soren decided to briefly to take a break from his readings, allowing the information to sit and formulate a plan. He blinked slowly, yawning lightly only to suddenly feel a slap to his back.

“Wake up, Soren! Didn’t get enough sleep?” Chrom asked curiously. Soren groaned momentarily, rubbing his shoulder and turned his head to Chrom as they continued to walk. “I tried to bare through all of Vaike’s snoring.”

“Oh, your tent was next to his?” Chrom asked with Soren nodded briefly.

“Hey, at least it was one night, I’ve had to sleep right next to his tent for months. Only reason I wasn’t yesterday was because I was on patrol.”

“Hmm?” Soren and Chrom both turned to find a muzzle nearly lingering over both of their shoulders. Looking to find the horse so close, they focused more on the rider, finding it was none other than Stahl.

“Your name is Stahl, correct?” Soren questioned, causing the man to turn his attention over to him, smiling at the recognition. “Hello again, Soren, Miriel told me we had a new Shepherd and I knew yesterday wasn’t the best introduction—er, Miriel’s another of our mages. She should catch up soon.”

“What happened? Did you not offer her a ride on your horse?” Chrom questioned. Stahl shook his head in disagreement, tugging his horse’s reins slightly to slow his pace down. “No, I did. We almost made it here, but Miriel insisted to get off. I think she couldn’t handle being on a horse for nearly two hours non-stop.”

“With your riding skills, I think for her sake she chose the better route,” Sully barked with laughter causing Stahl to pout at her tease. “It’s not so bad! I was just in a hurry, especially on an empty stomach…” His stomach growled conveniently causing the man to slump onto his horse, groaning gently.

“Your stomach speaks for you, doesn’t it?” Sully quirked with Stahl rolling his eyes. “It would be for you too, you kind of have to live off food.”

“Bah! What you need is to hone your body to the ultimate weapon. Training nonstop is the best cure,” Sully boosted. Stahl merely continued brushing along his horse’s mane when Soren turned to Sully with a raised brow. “So Sully, are you one of the only females knights? Crossing through the training fields I didn’t see many…”

“Nope, there’s probably only a handful of us compared to the rest. I’m one of three to make it to the ranks like I have, the others are still rookies,” Sully exasperated, “Unlike the Pegasus Knights, the royal army wasn’t all that keen to allowing women to fight as knights. I’m trying to change that though,”

“You are?” Soren raised a brow to which Sully pounded a fist against her chest armor. “Hell yeah I am! I want to inspire other women that they can fight out here on the battle field just as well as any other man, even better than them!” Sully explained proudly to which Soren smiled in response. She certainly was leading a noble cause for young women alike. It seemed she was already doing a great job at it, considering she was whipping the men into place during training. He himself was almost hesitate to spar against Sully though it would lead to excellent training on his part.

Soren hummed softly, running a hand through his locks and resumed his attention once more on Chrom. It was still hard for Soren to be able to wrap his head around the fact that Chrom was in fact the prince of Ylisse halidom. That he was the younger brother of the Exalt Emmeryn and the elder brother of Lissa, another princess of the kingdom. He should’ve guessed that the brand on his right shoulder was actually a sign of royalty as Frederick had explained to him the last evening. It was known as the Brand of the Exalt, a universal known symbol for those descendants from the first Exalt who had slain the Fell Dragon. It should have been known as a symbol of peace, yet, these Plegians think otherwise.

“So what do you want, Soren?” Sully’s voice snapped him out of his own thoughts and looked over to his side, finding both Stahl and Sully were staring at him strangely. He flushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, I want to be able to do my best as the Shepherds tactician,” Soren answered to which Sully pouted in response, “What?”

“You’re not curious on finding out who you are?” Stahl asked politely to which Soren nodded slowly, “I would want to figure out who I am or who I used to be if that happened to me.”

“No, it’s true I am curious to figure it out,” Soren admitted, “I’m unsure where to start though…all I know is Lissa nearly tripped over me. Chrom and Frederick hadn’t seen anyone walking around that area so I’m left with questions to how I was left there, do I have any family members that are alive still or was I running away from something?” Soren sighed gently, pushing his bangs away from his face. "I don’t know honestly. I would like to know…but it’s not ideal at the moment.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Stahl nodded, brushing along the horse’s man while Sully quirked her lips, turning around slightly. “Hey ruffles! Didn’t you say you had some spare books you wanted to get rid of?”

“Milady, please,” Virion sighed disappointingly, slowly trailing behind Soren and most of the group. He was honestly going at the same rate as Sumia was on the carriage. He certainly did not seem to enjoy all the walking really, especially carrying his equipment on his body. “I’ve told you my names numerous of times, would it be too much to ask to hear you speak my name upon your beautiful lips??”

Sully’s eye twitched as Stahl beside sighed with a faint, “Oh boy,” echoing from his direction.

“I’m going to assume that’s a no then,” Sully huffed as Virion was suddenly by Soren’s, producing a book readily in his hand. “On the contrary, I do have it here. Soren, it seems fate has it that you are in need of this?”

“Wait, me?” Soren repeated, taking the book from Virion’s grasp and tilted his head slightly. It was a plain cover with nothing written on it, or in it for that matter as Soren began to flip through the pages. It was completely empty.

“Use it as a journal or something, maybe it’ll spark some memories in your brain.” Sully teased with Virion nodding in agreement. “It would be most imperative to keep a log of your tactics too. Consider it a gift from yours truly,” Virion added causing Soren to look over, questioning if he truly acted this condescending every time he spoke. Even if he had something genuine in mind to offer. Soren scratched the back of his neck, smiling gently at the idea. It wasn’t such a bad idea to consider writing down all his daily activities, strategies and results from battles. He smiled gently, tucking the book within the inside of his cloak, nodding his head towards Virion and Sully’s direction.

“Thank you, I appreciate it, truly.”

“No need to thank us, it was after all, my dearly beloved Sully’s idea.” Virion gestured as Sully grimaced once more, now snapping her reins to catch up further more with Frederick. The same knight who made it fairly clear to Virion not to approach Lissa anytime soon. Virion sighed, waving a hand over his head. “Oh there she goes again, but less I fret, our paths will cross again soon enough.” Virion serenaded the upcoming future.

Soren sighed lightly, already finding it rather…amusing dealing with all these different personalities clashing with one another. Soren smirked briefly, watching as Virion slowed once more now to engage in a conversation with Sumia, the young woman smiling pleasantly. This army, though small as it might be, it truly was beginning to form into a tight knit group. Soren smiled when he hurried forward, reaching over to catch back with Chrom.

“Chrom, if you have a moment—” Soren began when he suddenly stopped, clenching his teeth, “Oh gods.”

“What?” Chrom had turned to the direction Soren had looked to. The monsters seemed to be on the rise, blocking the access to the other side of the bridge. The entire army took to a formation, already armed and ready for the encounter.

“Gods, have the Risen spread this far?” Chrom demanded with Soren raising a brow at the term, “Risen?” Soren repeated.

“We needed a name for this new threat, so the council gave them one.” Frederick answered quickly,

“Everyone, remember what we’re up against!”

“Mya ha! They’ll remember ME once I drive my axe into their….” Vaike was reaching for thin air behind his back and Soren could only stare in disbelief. Lissa wasn’t joking about things disappearing rather quickly from his possession. How could he not tell the weight of the axe had disappeared from his back? “Wait…my axe. Where’s my axe?! I had it a second ago!” Vaike exclaimed panicky with Chrom and Frederick sending him sharp glares from behind. Soren was already making mental notes to keep Vaike as more of a support unit….or out of battles if he didn’t show up with that axe of his.

“Vaike, this is no times for jokes…” Chrom reprimanded with Vaike searching the surrounding area. “I’m serious! It’s gone, but I JUST had it! It’s got to be around here somewhere….”

“Keep to the rear, then!” Chrom snapped, his attention focused back on the Risens, finding one of the monsters had turned its attention to them. They’ve been noticed now. “The battle is nigh!”

“All right, listen up. Especially those of you who BROUGHT weapons!” Frederick sent a sharp glance to the other side, watching as Vaike quickly rounded up in the back behind Chrom, Soren, and Virion. “All weapons have strengths and weaknesses to bear in mind. Lances have an advantage over swords for example, while swords best axes. We’ll want to work this into our strategy whenever possible.”

Soren nodded briefly, already making the mental calculations on who were closest in proximities to each other. With Sully and Stahl leading front on horseback, it was easy to set them up in a close range of each other. They could easily handle off the swordsman and axeman with the three leading up from behind for support. Frederick as same as before will provide safety for Lissa…and Vaike for the moment at hand. Four Risens along with five across the bridge. Mission number one was at hand and he was going to make this as smooth as possible.

“Stahl, Sully, you lead ahead with Chrom following along with myself. Virion and Frederick, provide as back up and Lissa, keep close with Frederick—”

“What about me?!” Vaike interrupted causing the tactician to turn, sighing softly. “Do as Frederick commanded, unless by a miracle your weapon was to come right now.”

“I’d not though such dereliction permissible among the Shepherds, though to find what manner of ignoramus would mislay their weapon. Now I know.” Vaike and Soren turned to find a slender woman dressed in dark robe head in their direction. She wore a pointed hat which shadowed her scarlet hair. She pushed her glasses up gently and looked sternly towards Vaike, stalking towards his direction. In one arm, she clutched a tome, the front cover detailing the runes of fire. In the other hand however she was dragging an axe, one that Vaike jumped at the sight of.

“Whoa! My axe!” He hastily took it from her position, easily swinging it over his shoulder. “Thank Miriel! Er, for the axe, anyway.” Vaike thanked while the woman watched him sternly, her eyes narrowing. “Perhaps next time I’ll use a spell to fasten it to your hands…permanently.”

With that in mind, Vaike laughed nervously and Miriel turned, now focusing her attention upon Soren.

“And I’m to judge you’re the new tactician of this cavalry?” Miriel demanded. Soren merely nodded as she hummed thoughtfully, her eyes scanning up and down. “Then I’d trust you would do a sufficient task at overcoming this skirmish.” She paced forward with Vaike following not too far behind, Soren giving quick instructions to follow behind Frederick and Virion, leading ahead of the group.

It was quick for an engagement of combat when Sully was the first to slash across one of the Risen. Virion hurriedly followed behind with a fire of his arrow, piercing through the creature’s skull. Even when he didn’t go down, Soren had casted a thunder spell of his own to finish the creature off. Following with that, Miriel certainly was a tactful mage, covering for Frederick as had pierced through another swordsman that nearly took to Chrom’s path. The young prince nodded in appreciation before charging forward, clashing blades against a Risen, deflecting his axe and hurriedly slashed it across the stomach.

Soren kept his eyes out, calling out on those who needed assistance and jumping into the fray when the time called for it. Three Risens were left on their sides as Soren narrowed his eyes, charging against the archer that was aiming directly for Miriel. He intersected the arrow with a quick spell of thunder, catching the Risen’s attention. Miriel seemed to catch notice, turning her attention away from Vaike as he finished off another Risen.

“Fire!” She casted the flames towards the archer’s direction, now distracting it from two different angles.

“What next, Soren?!” Chrom called out as Soren dodged another arrow, hastily snapping his attention over before swinging his sword out. “Chrom, I’m a bit busy!” Soren called back, slamming his sword into the chest of the Risen. As much as he expected blood to spill out, ash and dust disintegrated around the blade, falling to the ground. He panted lightly, groaning slightly as the group was now stationed at the bridge, Stahl leading an assault against a rogue Risen that had decided to foolishly attack the knight.

“Might I advise patience, milord?” Frederick suddenly stepped in, looking to Chrom. “Soren is still new, regardless if he does have the potential of being a brilliant tactician. Even the best of us need rest. Or in Soren’s case, time.”

“Yes of course, sorry,” Chrom apologized hastily. Soren huffed out a relieved thank you to Frederick as he joined the others with Miriel at his side. Across from the bridge only remained three more monsters, the Risen Chief wielding a heavy axe, looking incredibly hostile compared to the other Risens, this one was going to require more of a distance fight.

“Miriel, if you’ll assist Virion, we’re going after the leader of this group while Frederick and Vaike take the brute on the left while Chrom and Lissa head over to the last one,” The six nodded in agreement, spreading out to divide and conquer the field. Splitting up, it was clear during this battle to see how combing units was not only a better chance that the enemy would be defeated, but it was increasing moral, creating a bond between comrades, yes, he knew he was going to have to use this sort of strategy more often in the future. Something to certainly write in that book of his now.

The Risen Chief had now set its sight on Soren, it was cue for Miriel to step to the side, quickly shooting out a ball of flame to the risen. The risen blocked with it’s axe but Virion jumped beside, firing in rapid succession two arrows that had pierced through it’s leg and upper shoulder. Taking the advantage as Miriel casted another fire spell, Soren came from behind the Risen, slashing it across the back, He ducked quickly as the axe was swung towards his direction, lunging the sword forward to pierce through the chest. Dust settled upon the ground allowing Soren to relax, sighing gently in relief.

Looking across the battle field, he witnessed the defeat of the other two Risens. Soon enough everyone relaxed and or cheered about the victor, causing him to smile. He did it, he kept everyone alive. That was honestly a relief on his part.

“Phew! That was a doozy!” Lissa stretched her arms above her head, humming loudly as Sully wiped her forehead. Stahl sighed in relief, brushing along his horse’s mane and complimented it on a job well done. Miriel fixed her hat, humming in approval and Vaike hollered, grinning like a madman. Chrom called out if anyone had been seriously injured but luckily for them, most of the group just came out with a few scratches that Lissa was able to heal up in a jiff. The group had rejoined back with Sumia, now finally able to cross the bridge with no more troubles. Continuing on with this walk, Chrom congratulated Soren on the job well done, causing the male to smile. Yet, from the far distance, something caught Soren’s eye.

“Well, what do we have here?” Soren halted momentarily while the carriage slowly passed by, Sumia abruptly stopping when she found Chrom and Frederick had stopped as well.

“Is that what I think it is?” Lissa leapt off the carriage, giggling excitedly as Soren and Chrom began to walk towards the strange creature that was laying on the field.

“It’s a Pegasus, all right. I think it’s hurt. Let’s just have a look here…” Chrom inched towards the armed pegasus, noticing how there was a cut along the hind leg of the beautiful stallion. Yet in an instant the winged beast became alarmed, getting on it’s high legs and nyahing loudly. Chrom stumbled back with the pegasus now standing abruptly, kicking at the ground and spreading it’s wings to blow some of the dust at them.

“WHOA! Down, girl! Easy there!” Chrom attempted to relax the stallion but clearly Chrom was not one to deal with animals.

“Captain! One moment,” Soren turned to find Sumia and Sully joining them, Sumia joining Chrom’s side, not before stumbling onto her face epically. Soren winched watching as now Chrom was the first to assist her up, “Sumia! Are you all right?”

“No! I mean, yes, I mean….” Sumia sighed gently, curling her fingers to fists against her chest, “I really need to get new boots…” Chrom sighed gently before shaking his head. 

“Well, come no closer. This beast is crazed!” Chrom informed her. Sumia on the other hand, looked hurt momentarily before she smiled warmly. “It’s okay, Captain. I can handle this…” Sumia walked forward, muttering soft ‘sshh’ as she slowly held her hand towards the stallion. The pegasus squirmed slightly in place but did not object as Sumia took advantage to slowly begin brushing along the nose, cooing the beast to settle down.

“Easy now girl, I won’t hurt you.” Sumia promised, brushing along the pegasus’s mane. Soren watched carefully as Sumia was able to soothe down the pegasus, continuing to brush and stroke along the mane. The pegasus nuzzled finally against her palm, Sumia smiling brightly at the gesture, nuzzling her head briefly beside the winged beast. Chrom seemed just as amazed, blinking slowly at the spectacle at hand.  

“How did she calm it so quickly?” Soren asked briefly to which Chrom merely shrugged, mesmerized at the scene at hand. “She has a thing for animals,” Sully answered, nudging against Soren’s side as Lissa smiled brightly.

“That’s incredible, Sumia!” Lissa credited as Chrom nodded in agreement, smiling. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, it’s…it’s nothing. Really. I just have a way with animals, I guess.” Sumia answered bashfully, blushing at the comments as they continued to roll in, especially from Virion who was calling her the goddess of nature at this point. Miriel was quick to write all these notes down, muttering how this could lead to valuable research later on in her career.

“I should say so!” Chrom smiled as Sumia blushed, smiling back. “You all go on ahead. I’ll dress her wounds and catch up as soon as we’re able.”

“We can make time to wait for you.” Chrom offered causing Soren to look momentarily over to the man, raising a brow. Lissa seemed to join in on the staring, humming suggestively to which Soren turned his head slightly, finding her smiling deviously. I hope she wasn’t thinking what he was thinking. That would become rather problematic. Sumia smiled sweetly, shaking her head to decline the offer.

“Thank you, Captain. But I can manage. I’m sure to see you all again briefly. Every moment is precious when all of Ylisse is in danger.” Chrom’s lips seemed to quirk back and Soren raised a brow. Did he know something about Sumia the others didn’t? Yet in the end Chrom smiled at Sumia’s request, nodding his head. “Right, then. Be safe, Sumia.”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about Sumia. She can handle herself, she’s a tough cookie.” Though Sully came lugging a small bag and a long lance, holding it up to Sumia as she smiled. “You’re going to need these.”

“Heh, thanks Sully,” Sumia easily took the equipment from her, settling them down before the pegasus and nodded towards everyone’s direction. It seemed with a weary sense of trust that the group did continue to march as Sumia continued to tend the pegasus. Not even twenty minutes walking away from her did the environment begin to change. It was not far of a walk as the weather began to take a turn for the worse. It was clear no one was anticipating when snow began to drift down from the sky above, a chill breeze immediately greeting them.

“Brr…it’s freezing.” Lissa shivered, rubbing her arms hastily as the territory only grew colder and colder. Soren nodded in agreement, accompanying the carriage while Virion had offered a blanket to Lissa, maneuvering into the back of the carriage to supply her with one. Honestly Soren was half tempted to ask Virion to see if there was any others but knew he could tough it out. This was the first time Soren had ever seen snow, it was beautiful for sure, but in this tundra he could feel his feet beginning to freeze to the ground.

Even from here, there seemed to be some progression finally as a fortress was well in sights. Chrom held a hand up, halting the group from pursing any farther. “All right, we’re leaving the carriage here for now.”

“W-wait what?!” Lissa demanded, trembling underneath the blanket. “This is the Longfort, it stretches along the border of Ylisse and Regna Ferox. The khans that rule Ferox have grown quite wary of foreigners.” Frederick explained on Chrom’s behalf, sighing gently. “Still, don’t mistake a lack of hospitality for open hostility. This simply calls for a bit of diplomacy.”

“But why can’t we bring the carriage??”

“I rather be cautious then to bring a whole carriage full of weapons and supplies to their doorstep. Negotiation’s not my strong suit, but I’ll do my best with handling this situation.” Chrom explained. Lissa pouted, shivering as she tossed the blanket back, leaping off the cart as they carefully removed Frederick’s horse from the carriage. They managed to camouflage the carriage fairly well, especially with this blizzard, hopefully they didn’t end up losing it.

“Remember, everyone: your actions here reflect back upon Ylisse.” Chrom warned as everyone nodded. Yet Frederick hadn’t taken his warhorse’s reins, his eyes fixated upon the fortress’s wall. Soren decided to stand beside, narrowing his eyes when he noticed slight movement. It seems guards were positioned along guard towers and they were….rallying their men?

“There seems to be troubles in the wind, milord: The Feroxi Guard are mobilizing.” Frederick warned. Chrom snapped his attention back while Lissa gripped onto her staff. The others were already equipped with all of their weapons safe to say.

“What?! Why?”

“Who can say? But they look ready to let fly at a moment’s notice.” Frederick answered wearily, “We’d best prepare for combat, just to be safe. Loathe as I am to trust him, Soren might offer some valuable insight in this…”

“Indeed, he is our tactician, after all. So, Soren, what do you suggest?” All had turned to Soren now, his lips quirking at the task at hand. First day as tactician of an army, he wasn’t going to fail.


	6. Realm of the Warriors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fillers are nigh, plot unfolds sooner than imagined.

“Time is like a river that splits into creeks or pools into lakes or careens down waterfalls. I have the map, and I steer the ship.”

Garnet [Steven Universe]

The Shepherds mobilized and marched to the fortress, ready and armed to the teeth. Soren had set their formation carefully, repeatedly switching once he was frightfully surprised that Kellam offered to work along Lissa’s side. Nearly scaring the young princess as well by his sudden appearance, Kellam insisted he was here the whole time before sort of…fading into the background. Strange, but that was something extremely useful that Soren was going to potentially abuse in combat. After asking every one of their approval over the plan, Chrom decided to lead the group down the path to the fortress. From this point, they formed a formation around Chrom and acted as a wall to the fortress. Coming closer and closer, Soren began to notice all the knights that were above were aimed readily to fire at the command. Soren frowned gently, gripping onto his tome readily as the group halted a few feet from the armed gates.

“Halt, who goes there?!” A woman stepped forward, her blonde hair cropped closely to her ears, her striking grey eyes peering down at the group. Chrom took a few steps forward from behind and presented himself to her presence.

“In the name of House Ylisse, I see audience with the khans!” Chrom called back. The woman’s face consorted into a nasty twist as she pointed a lance towards Chrom’s direction, four of her men following shortly. “Not another step, my bold lad! I’ve lancers at the ready!”

“Hold, milady! We are not your enemy!” Frederick countered, “The Exalt Emmeryn herself had sent us to discuss matters of mutual interest.”

“My only interest is keeping you out of Regna Ferox, brigand!” The woman sneered. Soren hissed faintly at the accusation, already fearing the idea of a battle was eminent. Already weapons were clutched at everyone’s sides. His attention dawned over to Chrom finding his expression harshening, his right hand hovering carefully by his sword’s side.

“You think you are the first “Ylisseans” to try and cross our border? I have the authority to fell such imposters where they stand.” She narrowed her eyes dangerous as Frederick scoffed angrily at the comment.

“How dare you! You are in the presence of Prince Chrom, the Exalt’s own blood!” Frederick reprimanded earning a daunting laugh from the woman above. “Ha! Yes, indeed—and I’m the queen of Valm!” Some of her troops laughed at the comment as Chrom clenched his teeth, Lissa swinging her arms, seeming readily to make a comment of her own when Soren shook his head to her.

“You do realize impersonating royalty is a capital offense, yes?” The woman demanded causing Frederick to suppress the urge to further shout out her, a simmering growl escaping his lips. The woman crossed her arms behind her back, staring down to the ground before slamming her lance down.

“Mmm….Then perhaps we should settle this the Feroxi way,” She proclaimed, “You claim to be the prince of Ylisse? Then I, Raimi, challenge you to prove it on the battlefield!” the woman, identifying herself as Raimi declared.

Chrom clenched his teeth and Soren snapped his attention finding past the gate a few men were beginning to mobilize through the courtyard, at least six or seven men. Including the five above, it would have ranged out to at least eleven to twelve highly trained men. Soren nodded to Kellam’s and Virion’s direction, finding the men were ready at the call as Sully and Stahl kept close to Frederick and Lissa’s sides.

“Rgh, Emmeryn won’t like this at all…” Chrom chastised and hurriedly looked back to the Commander, Raimi. “Please, good lady! If you’d just listen—”

“I’ve heard enough by now!” Raimi snapped, her lancers at ready causing Soren’s eyes to widen. “Attack!”

“Virion! Kellam! Now!” Soren threw his arm out, Virion and Kellam respectively reeled back their weapons and launched them, hitting right on contact with one of the lancers causing him to hurl back. Raimi was surprised by the quick counterattack but that didn’t stop her other men from continuing their arm towards Chrom.

“Chrom move!” Lissa shouted as Soren snapped his attention to the side, watching as the lancers were launched directly towards Chrom. Chrom moved his arm forward, ready to hurl himself to the side when a dust of snow blew over the field. Soren had to hold an arm over his head from the snow pelting against his face. Soren blinked rapidly, looking down to the spot to find the lances pierced through the snowy ground, clearly have missing their target.

“Sumia!” Soren snapped his attention to the air, watching as the Pegasus knight whirled through the air. Chrom was safely behind her, swinging his sword out as lancers became armed once more. Soren sighed gently in relief while Sully hollered an energetic, “Nice one Sumia!”

Lancers however returned, aiming for the soaring Pegasus knight causing Soren to turn to Miriel, nodding firmly to her as she repeated the gesture. “Thunder!” Both the mages casted the thunder spell towards the upper wall, catching all three men in the explosion that sent them falling off to the courtyard below. Raimi turned her attention over, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she turned once more, barking orders for her men to prepare for battle. It allowed enough time for Sumia to return back onto the ground, safely delivering Chrom.

“Oh Captain, I’m so relieved I made it in time.” Sumia expressed as Chrom shakily slipped back onto the ground. “That goes double for me, Sumia!” Chrom admitted, “And this—is the same ornery Pegasus we met on the road?!”

“Oh, she’s a sweetheart, isn’t she?” Sumia regarded, brushing the head of Pegasus earning a delighted neigh. “Once you get to know her.”

“Well, many thanks to you both.” Chrom thanked with a warm smile causing Sumia to blush. Lissa giggled beside, “I think the Pegasus is blushing!”

“And I think we had all best focus on the situation at hand!” Frederick reprimanded as Soren joined by Frederick’s stead. “Chrom! They’re coming!” The gates began to shake and lift as Chrom gritted his teeth, holding his Falchion firmly in hand.

“All right! Feroxi way it is!” Declared the young prince, his troops rallied behind him.

Sumia’s Pegasus seemed to grow uneasy from all the shouting and Sumia merely set herself upon the winged-horse. “Don’t worry, girl. I’ll watch out for archers for both our sakes!” Sumia soothed the Pegasus, brushing along her mane as Soren hummed. That definitely could be used for an advantage for reaching a far distance. Though by the sounds of an archer, Sumia was definitely going to need someone who could provide her the support she needs.

“Everyone is still okay with the plan from earlier, correct?” Soren recounted, noting the heads nodding in his direction, adjusting themselves closer to their allies. Soren turned to Sumia, gesturing a hand to her. “Sumia, I can brief you but I was hoping if I can team up with you in combat for this one?”

“Of course,” Sumia smiled, nodding gently.

“Whoa heads up!” Vaike swung his axe down, catching a swordsman who managed to sneak underneath the gate. The swordsman was easily knocked back but quickly strike again, dodging Vaike’s powerful swing and managed to land a slash against his shoulder. Vaike grunted loudly but Stahl was quick to join his side, slashing his lance into the brute. The swordsman was easily defeated but Vaike was clutching his shoulder, blood seeping through his tanned fingers.

“Chrom! Team with Kellam! Lissa! Can you heal Vaike?” Soren ordered as Lissa affirmatively nodded, hurrying past her brother and through the field as Soren kept a guarded watch to ensure no enemies would head to Lissa’s direction. They had to expect everything for when it came to this battle. Chrom however seemed to remain in his position while everyone took to the sides, hurrying to infiltrate the fortress.

“Wait, Kellam is here? Where?” Chrom questioned.

“Um, sir? Sir…Right here, sir!” Chrom jumped nearly a foot off the ground, his hand immediately gripping onto the Falchion. Soren on the other hand sighed, placing a hand on Chrom’s shoulder as the man barked, “Who’s there! Show yourself!” Soren had to turn him completely around and still Chrom could not see the huge metal man.

“I’m standing in plain sight, sir. Right here—” Kellam winched when Chrom nearly fumbled again, surprised by the apparent sudden appearance of the tall knight. “Oh! Is that you, Kellam? When did you arrive?”

“The same time as you….” Kellam trailed off with Soren sighing, rubbing his temple.

This man had a true gift of the art of fading into the background. Even Soren was beginning to speculate how he had entered into the army in the first place. Soren rolled his eyes gently, gesturing a quick be safe the two before hoping on Sumia’s Pegasus. Once Sumia made sure Soren was safely on, she snapped her reins and the two soared up into the sky.

Soren gripped onto the saddle, wincing from the snow that pelted against forcing his to tug his hood over his face, earning a giggle from Sumia. “Not used to the cold, huh?” Sumia reprieved from the situation at hand. Soren huffed slightly, his cheeks flushed from the dropping temperatures. “To be honest, this is a first for everything that’s been happening today.” Soren shivered as Sumia turned her head slightly, smiling.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” She reassured causing the tactician to smile back. Yet his eyes casted to the ground below, finding the Shepherds had poured through the Fortress, engaging against the Feroxi warriors. Soren’s focus sharpened, finding that it was just as he had expected earlier. They seemed to be equally matched though outnumbered by at least six additional warriors entering into the fray.

“Sumia!”

“Right!”

Sumia pulled the reins and her Pegasus dived towards the fight. Sumia hesitated but gripped onto her lance. When they were low enough to the ground, Sumia lunged the lance towards a swordsman, knocking him easily off his feet. Stahl waved out in gratitude with Sumia pulling up once more into the air, avoiding an archer who had taken target on them. Soren hastily turned around, throwing a strong bolt of lightning towards the ground, scorching the bow and arrow and a good amount of his armor as well.

“Huh, that certainly did the trick.” Soren hummed, smirking gently.

With the battle nigh, Soren had asked to be lent down to the ground for a closer assault, reassuring Sumia to keep an eye out for any other archers if they were to come. It seemed most had been taken down at this point, weapons scattered across the ground. Men were groaning, turning on their sides and it was clear to tell a good majority of them were not planning on getting back up. This was good to see neither sides had causalities to suffer from.

From this point on Frederick and Chrom had been challenged by the fierce Feroxi warrior Raimi. It would seem to be a very difficult struggle considering her thick armor provided an impervious defense. Yet Chrom and Frederick worked off each other with an impressive form, easily proving that working in two-unit was much more efficient than fighting solely as a one unit.

Frederick had lunged his lance to the woman, forcing her to raise her shield up. Chrom hastily charged, catching her from behind to nearly knock the woman off her feet. When it wasn’t Chrom who did the trick, it was surely Frederick with a firm swipe, Raimi was knocked her feet, a piece of her armor clattering against the ground exposing a large amount of her shoulders. Chrom kicked away her lance and held his sword to her, panting lightly.

“It seems….your claims….were true…” Raimi regarded.

Chrom nodded, reeling his sword back into it’s sheath. Chrom offered a hand to the fallen commander, a look of humiliation running through her face. She gently took the hand and was assisted up by Frederick. She took a few steps back, bowing forward.

“A thousand apologies, Prince Chrom. I truly took you for brigand imposters.” She apologized before straightening herself up, “But no frauds could ever wage a battle as you just have! I congratulate you and your army. You clearly have a dedicated, resilient group following beside you.”

“Thank you, Raimi. Now that this is settled, may we have an audience with the khans?” Chrom requested as the woman nodded firmly.

“I will send word of your arrival to the capital and escort you there personally. I will also have my men retrieve your carriage to take with you to the capital.”

“That would be most appreciated, thank you.” Chrom smiled gently as the woman bowed once more.

Raimi firmly turned around and walked away, calling for her troops to gather those that need more medical attention. Soren blinked, watching as she rallied her troops, subtly returning their moral as it was an honor to battle with royalty of another country. Soren hummed, tilting his head slightly. How quickly her emotions changed. No longer had she seemed humiliated by the defeat, no, she seemed more energized and resolute in her stance.

“Amazing. Her whole demeanor changed.” Soren remarked with Frederick nodding beside. “In Ferox, strength speaks louder than words. I should have known better than to overestimated the value of diplomacy here….”

“Well, it’s a sort of diplomacy I can certainly understand.” Chrom exclaimed with a slight smile. Lissa rolled her eyes as did Frederick

“Hell yeah, I like the way these Feroxi think.” Sully agreed from behind.

“Maybe one has to put their approach a little, barbaric for my taste.” Virion criticized lightly as Stahl nodded slowly, rubbing his bare shoulder. It was clearly going to take some time before Raimi had her men settled so the Shepherds waited quietly, retrieving lost armor and savaged any weapons that were left from the battle. Lissa was still making moves to heal those in the group but it was clear to tell she was shivering visibly.

“Uh…can we go now?” Lissa squeaked. Chrom nodded, rubbing his arm gently. “It’s not going to get any warmer out here.” He looked forward, finding Raimi and a group of her men waiting patiently a few feet in front of them.

“Follow us, your highness.” Raimi instructed.

The group was allowed entry way through the fortress, finding a faint reprieve from the bitter chill as they crossed through. Once back on the outside, it became a treacherous march to the capital. For about an hour, the weather seemed to grow worse and worse. Lissa was shaking in her stockings, nearly buried in Frederick’s house as he kindly permitted. Even from the knight’s unfazed look, Soren had noticed the shake in Frederick’s grip on his reins. No matter how much a man could train, they couldn’t overcome their bodies’ natural defense. Soren himself knew he was not meant for this weather as he tucked his hood over his head once more, his teeth chattering lightly. At this point he could easily write down in that journal later that he must not have been from Regna Ferox.

Ugh, that’s if his fingers don’t succumb to frostbite first off.

Soren focused his attention on the Feroxi warriors, watching their walk in hopes it would keep his mind off the cold. They clearly weren’t bothered by the weather, firmly marching through the inches of snow that was beginning to grow on the ground.

“Milady, I know this is rude to ask but how much farther are we to the capital?” Chrom questioned, restraining himself greatly from shivering. Raimi turned with an affirmative nod. “Not much longer your highness, you can actually see the outlining of the capital here.”

Now most of Chrom’s army looked forward, peering past the gales of flakes to indeed see a illuminating town in the distance. It glistened and radiated a sense of warmth—the idea that all the Shepherds could agree upon at the moment. Lissa sighed in relief, hugging her arms tightly.

“Oh phew! That’s not much farther! Come on! We can totally make it!”

“Of course we can—milady! Stop running!” Frederick could only do so much with the princess scampering ahead of the group. Soren laughed lightly, hastily moving beside earning a glance from the valiant knight. “She has the right idea. It’s frigid weather and we’re ill suite for it. If I had the chance, I would join her on her run.”

“……Why aren’t you then?”

Soren teeth chattered, rubbing his arms vigorously, “I can’t necessarily feel my feet,”

***********************************

After the struggle of running through the snow and nearly being dragged, they finally entered into capital. The carriage and all the animals were taken to be cared for allowing the Shepherds a safe stay. The castle was similarly designed as the one in Ylisse’s but had a much thicker exterior wall surrounding it, clearly providing a great defense if war was to come to its border. Even the inside seemed to emit a tone of previous war battles that had raged in the halls and outskirts of the courtyards. Even in this castle, the brittle cold seemed to seep through its walls, ice shards seeming to form in the upper most corners of the room.

Lissa was pleasantly happy to say the least that they were inside. The same could be said for Vaike who didn’t even say a word once they got there, shivering violently and nearly collapsing on the ground once they reached inside. Miriel on the other hand seemed fascinated by Regna Ferox’s vicious weather, calling it a ‘peculiar weather phenomenon’. Sully didn’t even seem like she wanted to come back inside, but Stahl positively distracted her in the hopes she didn’t end up dragging him with her back outside for training.

Frederick, Chrom, and Soren had gathered in a group, discussing quietly about how they would speak to the Khan. After the battle in the Fortress, it was clear they needed to rephrase their sentences in order to get on their better side. For once, it seemed Chrom knew exactly what he was going for, keeping a positive smile at the idea he has what it takes. Even with Frederick living to his name of being weary of the choice, he could only nod in agreement and claim to wait till the khans could see them.

After several minutes of waiting and defrosting, Raimi returned into the open room.

“Well?” Chrom politely asked.

 “The Khans are currently in a meeting, I’ve been told to allow you in our guest rooms for the duration of the evening till morn. Then you will have your audience with the khan.” Raimi reported as Chrom sighed gently.

“Thank you, Raimi.”

“Servants will tend to you at the moment,” She gestured behind herself, seven young men and women waiting patiently for the order. Chrom nodded and with that Raimi dismissed herself and took back to down the hall.

Chrom rubbed the back of his neck, sighing lightly in displeasure. “Well, there’s no waste in worrying, we’re here now and the Khans will have to hear our request. For now I suppose everyone should make themselves comfortable until tomorrow.”

“Remember everyone, this is not a vacation, now I would suggest everyone go and rest. We’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Everyone seemed to take it as an order and servants came to offer rooms. Some left, some mingled for about an hour and left as well. Sully and Vaike had joked that this was compensation for the attack earlier but were hushed by Stahl, claiming he rather not start more trouble than they had already. Their numbers had dwindled from the eleven shepherds to merely two, having Frederick following Lissa with her servant. It was only Chrom and Soren who were left, merely chatting about how the day had gone and what could’ve went better.

“Regardless of what happened, you did an excellent job Soren, with barely had any major injuries, it’s clear to tell I made the right decision in making you our tactician.”

Soren flushed faintly, rubbing the back of his neck at the flattering remark. “It’s still rather early to judge, I’ve been with the group for not even a week now, I’m not sure what other battles are to come.”

Chrom merely patted his shoulder, smiling confidently to him. “I know you’ll make the right decisions. It’s not all you imagined it to be?”

“Well…it’s certainly busier than I expected.” Soren admitted lamely, “I know I still haven’t developed everyone’s trust but I figured that was going to take time.”

“Exactly, don’t worry for now Soren, it’s a good start.” Chrom encouraged as Soren smiled lightly. “We’ll speak more tomorrow. I think right now we all deserve a night’s rest.”


	7. Two Destinies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *groaaaaaaans* 
> 
> So, apologizes for lateness. I had just decided to both from one side of the country to another, so without internet access, I was kind of screwed. I finally have internet and am able to publish this chapter. The others should now be hopefully two week basis for updates considering I started a new job. But if anything, this one is a bit longer of a chapter so I hope you enjoy it all~!

_Soren had his face buried into his books, exhaling gently. He scribed his thoughts upon the new journal, making a mental note about which strategies he had used and the mistakes that he learned in battle. Perhaps finding a way to execute his plans before hand to be able to see how the enemy could perceive his plans would give him a better idea. Maybe he’d invest into a chess set when the markets offer one to him._

_Soren rubbed his temple gently, scribbling his thoughts hastily when a knock rang from behind. He raised a brow, curiosity rolling over his thought process. He had went to the door and opened hastily, nearly expecting it to be Chrom. Yet he found no one of that height forcing him to look down._

_“Is something the matter Lissa?” Soren questioned, surprised to find the young woman at his door._

_“Soren, can I ask you something??” Requested Lissa, “Because I keep asking everyone and no one wants to answer me honestly.”_

_“Uh…” Soren found himself a bit lost for words, “I can try to answer it as honestly as I can.”_

_“Great!” Lissa clapped her hands, allowing herself into the room as Soren blinked a few times. He gently closed the door and turned seeing Lissa spin around before quirking her lips. “Do you think I’m good enough?”_

_“Huh…?” Soren tilted his head, maroon locks sliding over his face as he briefly brushed them off. “Good enough as what specifically?”_

_“You know, being in the Shepherds and being a princess! I mean, I feel like I drag everyone behind in battle since they have to protect me. And not even my people believe I’m really related to Emm or Chrom!”_

_Soren frowned at the comment, briefly recalling during their march to Regna Ferox, Vaike had off-handedly commented about if Lissa had a brand which Chrom quickly scorned. It seemed that the Mark of Naga only showed on those of the exalt’s line. Lissa seemed to have been born without one, having her grow up in a rather scandalous life style._

_“No one does such a thing Lissa, that’s preposterous.”_

_“I know, I know. Thanks Soren, I feel like I can always count on you to give me an honest answer—ack!”_

_Blood splattered along the stone floor, Soren’s eyes widen in horror. Lissa fell onto her knees, blood oozing from the center of her stomach as his sword clattered against the ground. Her eyes met his and he could only step back, unable to stop the shaking that was controlling his body._

_“W-Why?” Her body fell forward in a cold embrace as Soren hurriedly rushed to pick her up from the ground. “Lissa?! LISSA!”_

_**********************************_

Soren bolted up from his paperwork, exhaling heavily as he tried to regain his breathe. He felt like he hadn’t drew breathe since he had fallen asleep. Paper clung to his forehead as he yawned, rubbing his face roughly. His thoughts were in a frenzy trying to regain what had happened. That….certainly was an extremely unnerving dream.

A fog of air escaped from Soren’s lips, revealing how the temperature had dropped so suddenly. He grumbled, peeling some of the notes away from his face and began to collect some of the scattered pieces. Collecting his research and thoughts, he was oblivious when the door opened.

“Soren!”

Soren nearly tossed all the items that he had collected within his arms to the ground, whirling in place to find Lissa at the doorway. His entire body stiffened, a trail of sweat sliding from his temple to his jaw.

“A-Ah Lissa!” It was clear Lissa was confused, raising a brow as her eyes darted to the pile of mess that lingered at his feet. “Uhh….did I come at a bad time?” Soren drummed his fingers against the desk, keeping his eyes locked on hers with a nervous grin.

“No, no. You merely frightened me. I was a little lost in my thoughts, trying to focus on making new strategies.” Or trying to clean up from a night of strategies was more like it. Trying to organize his thoughts at the moment was also clearly becoming a failed attempt at this point. He could only hope he could keep his mind off the idea of the young princess dying.

“Oh! I’m sorry, hehe,” Lissa giggled, swaying on her heels, “it’s a good thing I came then. Frederick would’ve had you hanging from the ceiling in freight.”

“I surely don’t doubt Frederick’s intimidation.” Soren exclaimed as she stepped further in. He avoided making eye contact by swooping to the ground, gingerly picking up some of the scattered notes. His thoughts had momentarily distorted to replaying the brief, gruesome images causing him to sigh silently.

“So what is it that brings you here?” Soren decided to ask.

“Oh! Right! The Khan is going to see us today, Chrom and Frederick are already getting ready to meet him! I wanted to grab you and bring you along for this!” Lissa insisted. Soren’s brows furrowed, organizing the papers hastily into a pile and placing them on his desk.

“Already??” Gods, lets hurry then!”

“Right!”

Lissa led him out as Soren hastily closed the door, following shortly afterwards. Even through the unknown territory, the occasional guided suggestions set Lissa and Soren in the right direction, running into Chrom and Frederick, being led by Raimi to the main audance room, they were quietly discussing the topics they would be informing the Khan about. It almost surprised Frederick to have Soren along but Chrom insisted to have his tactician by his side, knowing it was probably for the best that he would hear what was needed to be said.

They were led to a open room, adorned with flames along the stone walls. A royal violet carpet covered the floor to the staircase where two thrones lingered. Raimi turned to the group, her arms crossed firmly behind her back.

“Prince Chrom, please wait here while I summon the Khan.” Raimi instructed with Chrom nodding his head, “Of course.” Without much further delay, she was heading away, the echoing of her armor indicating how far she was growing till silence had remained. The four turned towards each other, peculiar expressions lingering. It seemed strange that the ruler of the lands would not be in the throne room.

“The Khan is away?” Soren questioned as Chrom shrugged, his hand resting on his hip, sighing gently, clearly stress beginning to eat away at his calm attitude. “Out training, I’d wager. The khans of Ferox prefer battle to politics. Or rather, battle IS their politics.”

“A warrior ruler, eh? I can picture him now…” Soren rubbed his temple as the thought lingered, “A giant of a man of unparalleled thew, his broad chest covered in hair, I can only imagine he wields the mightiest of weapons.”

“Am I now?” A woman’s voice rang from across the room that caused Soren to immediately shut his trap. If he knew better on how this situation was going to play, it could only be assumed this woman was actually the Khan. Even Frederick seemed to sigh, retaining his professional attitude even as the woman continued, “Please, do go on!”

Coming to take a stance in front of them stood a proud woman, her sandy hair worn up with two bangs crowning her face. She wore a full body armor, consisting of maroon neck armor and a shield that incased her left arm. Unlike Emmeryn who had radiated a sense of peace, this woman contained a sense of pride and honor, holding herself highly in their presence.

“You’re the—?!” Chrom seemed to be handling the shock even a bit better as he composed himself, “Er, that is to say, the Khan, I presume?”

“One of them, yes—the East-Khan. My name is Flavia.” The East Khan introduced, “I apologize for the troubles at the border, Prince Chrom. You are welcome in Regna Ferox.”

“Thank you, but I’m confident we can put that misunderstanding behind us. Is it true that bandits posing as Ylisseans have been ransacking your border villages?” Chrom questioned. Flavia’s expression soured as she confirmed with a simple nod, ‘Yes, those Plegian dogs!”

“What?!” Chrom gritted his teeth as Flavia crossed her arms. “We found documents proving as much on the corpse of one of their captains. Plegia must see some benefit in raising tension between your kingdom and ours.”

Chrom scoffed angrily, “Damn them!”

Chrom gritted his teeth aggressively, Flavia smirked in approval while the complete opposite could be said for Frederick, hearing the other sigh under his breathe. Chrom moments later seemed to realize his mistake as his expression softened.

“I…Forgive me, Your Grace. That was…indelicately put.” Chrom admitted Flavia laughed boldly, resting her hands on her hips, smirking widely. “HA! Damn them and damn delicacy! Here in Ferox, we appreciate plain speech.”

Frederick’s expression could not be held back as Chrom’s stiffness vanished, his disbelief returning back to that stern look he wore previously.

“In that case, you should have a word with your damn border guards…” Chrom admitted boldly. Flavia smirked widely, laughing at the comment. “Now that’s Feroxi diplomacy! Yes, I like you already.”

Soren had to admit, it was strange the way politics was held here but he couldn’t deny that Chrom was better suited here. It was clear that Emmeryn made a wise choice letting Chrom represent her here. Had she known the Feroxi were always this aggressive?

Perhaps.

Flavia laugh had settled and she spoke once more, “I know why you have come, Prince. But regrettably, I cannot provide any Feroxi troops for Ylisse?”

Soren gritted his teeth as Lissa was the first to jump in with, “What?! Why not?!” This wasn’t something they had anticipated. Ylisse was beginning to lean towards total war and from what Soren was beginning to understand, the numbers Plegia had in their armies heavily outweighed what Ylisse had. Even Chrom repeated the question with the woman sighing, running a hand along her neck.

“I lack the authority to do such a command.” Flavia apologized.

“Forgive me, but I don’t understand. Aren’t you the khan?” It was clear Chrom had not heard Flavia’s title. It seemed there was more than one Khan. Perhaps an Eastern and Western Khan.

“As I said, I am ONE of the Khans. In Ferox, the khans of east and west hold a tournament every few years. The victor acquires total sovereignty over both kingdoms. And that means they have the final say when it comes to forging alliances. The West-Khan won the last tournament, you see, and so…” Flavia whistled gently as Chrom’s face crestfell.

“So we’re to receive no aid at all?”

“Not if you always give up so easily!” Flavia barked, “The next tournament is nigh, you see, and I am in need of champions.”

Soren’s brow furrowed, already catching onto Flavia’s suggesting tone. “What does that have to do with us?”

“The captain of my border guard informs me your Shepherds are quite capable. Perhaps you would consider representing the East in the upcoming tournament?” Represent the East in a tournament against the West’s warriors? Had she gone mad?

“If you win and I become ruling khan, I will grant your alliance.” Flavia explained rather clearly as Chrom raised a brow. “I would have assumed Ylisseans had no place in such Feroxi traditions.” Frederick admitted as Flavia laughed. “On the contrary. The khans themselves do not fight—they choose champions to represent them. Otherwise our land would be rife with blood fueds and dead khans!” It was clear that the Feroxi way was all about fighting.

“We don’t involve comrades or kin for the same reason. Over time, it was decided the tournament should be fought by outsiders. Although the outsiders have never included foreign royalty….that I know of! Ha! Regardless, it is your choice to make.” Chrom seemed a bit on edge about the idea of fighting in a tournament. Soren wasn’t so keen on the idea either but with the little choices they have, it seems he knew what Chrom’s answer was going to be.

“There is no choice, East-Khan. My people are desperate. We face not only Plegia’s constant attacks, but now the added threat of the Risen. If fighting for you is the quickest way to an allegiance, then we will take up our steel.” Chrom responded.

“Ha ha! Oh, I like you, Prince Chrom! I do hope you survive the tournament!” Flavia joked, or Soren had hoped she was. “Is it a fight to the death?” Soren demanded quickly.

“Heh, no, but causalities are not unheard of in the arena. I would say keep a close eye on your comrades, for only six of you are allowed in the arena.” Flavia explained. Soren exhaled, already trying to formulate who would be the wisest companions to choose.

“Come, I’ll show you the arena where the tournament is held. But be wary! I hear an equally able swordsman champions the West-Khan. “He shall be defeated by Ylisse’s necessity.” Chrom exclaimed boldly to which Flavia could only laugh in response. “Well-spoken again—I look forward to seeing if you’re equally skilled with a blade! Choice your Shepherds widely, my servants will come and retrieve them.”

“All right, Frederick, Soren, you’re with me. Soren, do you have any other suggestions—”

“Hey! What about me?!” Lissa demanded. Chrom turned, already having the answer planned, “I’m sorry Lis, I rather you stay safe for this one.” Chrom explained. Though the explanation seemed to only enrage the princess, fueling the red tint that was beginning to cover her face. “MNNN!!!”

As much as Soren agreed with Chrom’s concern over Lissa’s wellbeing, he knew this was going to take a rather blow to his plans. Without a healer in battle, he’ll have to think extra carefully in order to ensure everyone makes it out alive. His thoughts lingered to Stahl and Sully, knowing as a team they work off each other effortlessly. It’d be useful to have the three horses in combat as well. For their final member, it could be Vaike….but at the risk of him forgetting his axe again, Soren had to take other chances. Sumia was an option as well but Soren had noticed in the last battle she seemed a tad bit timid in the line of combat. A mage on the field would give them an advantage. Yet knowing Miriel disadvantages of handling attacks, information coming from herself, it would be advantageous to use Virion instead.

“I would ask for Sully, Stahl, and Virion. The others could join us in the arena.” Soren suggested. Chrom nodded in agreement as Frederick hummed at the options. Flavia nodded her head, clearly over hearing his suggestion and turned. “If that’s the final decision, then follow me boys, let’s this battle begin.”

**********************************

The crowds roared in the coliseum, their attention being directed to the battle grounds. The six warriors stood on one side, prepped and ready for battle. “KICK THEIR BUTTS!” Lissa hollered with Vaike hollering in agreement. Sumia and Kellam stood beside the other two, cheering loudly along with all who clearly belonged to the East side. However, Soren did notice Miriel was aggressively taking notes. What were the notes, he could only wonder. Soren’s attention averted to the seven warriors from the West side, narrowing his eyes. Wait a second.

“Chrom! Look!” Lissa hollered.

“Yes, I see him…” Chrom responded lowly. Across the field on the other side stood Marth, adorned in the same outfit as the day they had met him not so long ago. It seemed strange to see him on the opposing side, raising a curious notion on what was his real agenda. Soren quirked his lips, taking a bold stance as Frederick seemed to be doing the same.

“It’s the same man from the forest.” Virion noted as Sully squinted. “Oh yeah, what the hell is he doing here?!”

“Marth! One question before we begin!” Chrom shouted. Marth did not respond however, staying put where the shadows covered his expression. Chrom’s mouth tightened into a line and exhaled roughly, grabbing hold of his sword as he walked out into the center of the arena. “Fine then, our swords can speak for us!”

Chrom revealed his falchion, holding it firmly in front as Marth came out from the shadow, revealing his own sword—a duplicate falchion.  “No, that’s impossible.” Frederick exclaimed causing Soren to turn to him. “What do you mean?”

“The sword that Lord Chrom wields is unique, it’s the only one of its kind that has been passed down generations…yet this stranger appears to have one for his own.” Frederick enlightened.

“Could it be that someone replicated it in its likeliness?” Soren questioned. “It’s possible but then again, what does this Marth character have with milord?” Frederick pressed. Soren sighed, rubbing his neck as Sully scoffed loudly, swinging her lance to the side.

“Only one way to find out—through combat!” Sully shouted.

Chrom leapt in the air, making the first strike against Marth. It was clear to see that the two of them were evenly matched. The crowds were growing wild as the others were now joining into combat, attacking against the mercenaries from the West side. Soren had set everyone according to best advantage in the field and growing teamwork in the field, now having Sully and Virion work alongside each other. Although a bit rough at first, they were working well covering for each other, taking two sellsword out. Stahl and Frederick were a war-machine, clearly having worked previously before. They were taking out half of the competition with Soren covering for both sides, easily dodging back from an archer’s line of fire and casting his own spell against them.

Chrom was able to handle himself against Marth, easily swinging and swiping against the male as he blocked the heavy loaded attacks. Yet it seemed…strange. Now that Soren was closer to their battle, he could see that Marth…fought similarly to Chrom. In the way he took his stances and swung his sword, they were mere copy movements of what Chrom was producing. Soren’s eyes narrowed as the young man had leapt back, performing a similar attack Chrom had first attacked him with, nearly offsetting the young prince off. Chrom skidded back, sweat trailing down his face as Marth pointed his sword towards him challengingly.

Chrom resumed a straightened position, his eyes narrowing. Marth however turned, seemingly getting the attention of two other of the sellswordmen to take over. It seemed he was taking time to recuperate from the last attack. He hadn’t noticed the slight stumble from the last attack, he must’ve damaged his ankle recently. Soren’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the sudden gesture when he came to Chrom’s side, his hand electrifying with a spell readily.

“Go Chrom, I have your back!” Soren exclaimed confidently. Chrom seemed surprised by the sudden gesture but he smirked, swinging his sword out and held it readily. “No, we fight together!”

“Heh, all right!” Soren faced forward, casting his elthunder spell to one of the sellsword. When the man had dodged the attack, Chrom easily followed up with a devastating slash against his chest, knocking him to the ground. The other came quickly yet Soren threw his sword forward, catching the hefty weapon from cutting into Chrom. Soren grinded his teeth against one another before kicking the male away, exhaling heavily as the man stumbled back. Chrom once again took initiative, hurling the falchion against the warrior, disarming him momentarily allowing Soren to use his sword against him, tossing him to the ground.

Now their attention resumed back on Marth as the male took a stance. Chrom narrowed his eyes, lowering his sword momentarily. “Who’s your father?” Chrom demanded out of the blue, causing Soren to raise a brow momentarily. Marth however remained rigid in his stance. “I’ve said enough for one day, sir.”

“Hmph…is that how it is? Lissa owes you her life, and for that you have my gratitude. But within these walls, I represent the East-Khan and the interests of Ylisse. I can’t promise to stay my blade, but I vow not to shame you.” Chrom exclaimed boldly.

“Heh…never expected such youthful arrogance…” Marth whimsically uttered, before speaking loudly, “We shall see who shames who! Let us fight with honor! May the best soldier win!”

“I have your back!” Soren called out as Chrom charged forth again, aggressively yelling as he clashed his blade against Marth’s. Sparks danced in the air as they two combated energetically, twisting and meeting each strike strongly. Soren entered into the fray with a cast of lightning, Marth seemingly anticipating the attack as he leapt backwards. Soren’s eyes narrowed, surprised that his tactics against Marth seemed to have been predicted already. Blasted.

“HAH!” Soren whirled around, finding Marth swinging his sword back. When did he get behind him?!

“Soren! Duck!” Soren trusted the call, ducking forward as Chrom’s sword swiped above his head, clashing against Marth’s own blade. With the power he held against that swing, it was enough to be able to knock Marth’s right out of his hands and the warrior hurling to the ground. The crowds cheered viciously as Soren panted, Chrom settling his sword into his sheathe. That was too close for comfort. Marth nearly was about to cut his head off if Chrom didn’t come and intersect the attack. Now lying in defeat among the other mercenaries, it was clear to see the victory had shown in favor of the East side. Soren looked to Chrom, offering a weak smile.

“You had my back, it’s the least I could do.” Chrom smiled appreciatively, holding a hand out to assist him up. The others had joined them soon enough, Lissa jumping proudly at the victory they managed to snatch. Flavia soon joined as well, smirking widely and rested a hand on her hip.

“Well fought! You have my respect.” Flavia complimented, “and perhaps more to the point, you have your alliance. I will provide Ylisse with the soldiers she needs.”

“Thank you, East-Khan.” Chrom replied with a warm smile. Yet Flavia laughed boastfully, grinning viciously. “I should thank you! It feels like ages since I’ve held full power. Come, my new friends! TONIGHT, WE CELEBRATE!” The crowds cheered erratically with Flavia’s laugh ringing proudly, the power clearly going into her head. It seems now Soren should worry the image of the man was starting to fit Flavia’s personality more. She was off in a moment’s notice, hurryingly engaging with servants to set up a feast for the conquering warriors.

“Bah! Any excuse for a party and Flavia jumps on it…” A man chided from behind. Soren and Chrom had turned, finding a….strangely similar man as Soren had described earlier. Perhaps this was the West-Khan.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” Chrom asked politely, keeping his brows furrowed. The man grimaced, crossing his arms boldly over his chest. “Basilio, I’m the West-Khan you so rudely removed from power!”

Speak of the devil, he was right. Basilio sighed in disappointment as Chrom seemed a bit weary of responding to that statement. “You’re handy with a sword, boy. I thought for sure I’d picked the stronger man.” Basilio acknowledged. At the sound of Marth, Chrom’s lips quirked to the side.

“What do you know about him?”

“You mean that ‘Marth’? Bah! He’s just some sellsword with delusions of grandeur. All I know is that he turned up one eve and knocked my old champion flat,” Basilio laughed full-heartedly, “It was love at first sight, and I’m generally too old for sure things! Baha!” Basilio regained a sober expression however, smiling briefly. “Anyway, he’s gone now. Up and fled the moment the tournament ended.”

Lissa sighed dreamily, closing her eyes as a tiny of pink flashed across her cheeks.

“He’s so dark and mysterious….” Lissa sighed pleasantly causing Soren to look over, chuckling at the statement. “Sounds like Marth’s got at least one fan.” Soren acknowledged. Lissa giggled, looking over to him with a smirk. “Well, I mean, c’mon….he IS sort of dreamy, isn’t he??”

“Oh yes, so dreamy.” Soren replied while Chrom rolled his eyes. “And YOU’RE sort of dreaming!” Chrom chided as Lissa whined playfully, giggling. “Yowch! Lighten up, big brother. I was just kidding around.”

“I’m sure you were Lissa, I’m sure.” Chrom said accusingly causing the young princess to gasp. Frederick however, came to the rescue as he coughed into his fist, regaining their attention. “Milord? Milady? If this fascinating discussion is over, we’d best return home. The Exalt will want this news of our new alliance immediately.”

“Right as always Frederick,” Chrom smiled, turning back to Basilio to say something when the man raised a hand. “Hold, boy. Before you go, I have a little present for you.”

A man came forth, joining Basilio’s side, his dark eyes setting upon Chrom specifically. He held a different appearance compared to many of the warriors here in Regna Ferox, caring a different style of sword and armor wear. It was considerably lighter compared to what Soren was used to seeing at this point, could it have proven as much strength?

“This is Lon’qu, my former champion.” Basilio introduced, patting the man firmly on his shoulder, “Not much for talking, mind you, but he’s peerless with a sword. As good as Marth, in my mind. To be honest, I can’t figure out how Marth bested him so quickly.”

Soren and Frederick exchanged glances, already having a feeling that Marth was holding back something from them. It seemed there was more to his character then was first suspected. Lissa however, seemed more attracted to the fellow in front of them, tilting her head in curiosity. “Marth beat him? But he looks so big and strong….” Lissa took a few steps forward, trying to observe him more. However Lon’qu hastily took a step back, his hand reactively reaching for his sword and glared at the young woman. “Away woman!” Lon’qu sneered hastily. Lissa immediately backed away, taken aback by the chagrin. “What—what did I say?!”

“Ba ha ha!” Let’s just say the ladies tend to put Lon’qu on edge.” Basilio explained as Lon’qu posture remained stiffened, keeping an armed stare against Lissa. “Nonetheless, he is capable. Consider him West Ferox’s contribution to the Ylissean cause.”

“You’re certain about this?”

“Yes, yes, he’s yours now.” Basilio waved a hand nonchalantly as Chrom’s attention averted to Lon’qu now. “And Lon’qu? You have no objections?”

“He gives orders. I stab people. I think our roles are clear.” Lon’qu curtly answered. Chrom blinked, meeting Soren’s gaze before facing Lon’qu once more. “All right then. Welcome aboard.” Chrom welcomed as Basilio smirked proudly. However minutes later, Flavia returned to the arena, cheekily smirking as Basilio’s smile dropped, grumbling in annoyance instead.

“And I see you’ve all met. Now come on! I’ve asked of Olivia to perform tonight in our celebration. And no Prince, you can’t just leave just yet, at least enjoy a little of the festivities.” Flavia persuaded as Frederick grimaced at the idea. It was important to get back as soon as possible. But then again….to celebrate gaining such an ally, it’d be rude to decline such a request.

“Of course, we’d love to enjoy for a bit. But after, we must head off to Ylisse immediately.” Chrom explained as Flavia smiled brightly at the answer. However, Basilio did not. “Wait a second Flavia! Olivia is a part of West Regna Ferox!” He barked.

“Posh! She’s performing! Let’s enjoy it, former reigning Khan~” Flavia teased as Basilio huffed. Flavia boldly laughed once more, spreading her arms out. “Now come! Tonight we celebrate the East’s victory!”


	8. Harmonious Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter of a chapter, apologizes, this one was kind of harder to work with due to the short amount of time that I was trying to stick with this. Also work, work is fun. Fun work, so much. Anyways, next chapter will be longer as plot thickens and King Gangrel comes. Yaaay. Everyone's favorite. Okay! Enjoy and thank you so much for the kudos and I hope to keep improving as I go!

_Chasing after the world_

_Brings chaos._

_Allowing it all to come to me_

_Brings peace._

_\--Zen Gatha_

“Then Regna Ferox will support Ylisse?” Emmeryn’s delight could not be contained it seemed as Chrom had finally delivered the news to his eldest sister. “Thank you, Chrom. I knew sending you was the right choice.”

Soren hummed slightly, smiling as he and Frederick waited patiently outside in the courtyard, assisting the others in unloading the carriage, checking on the supplies. The warriors had not stayed long in Regna Ferox, though they did indulge in the festivities that were offered to them. Sully and Vaike had drank a little too much, to the point where Sully nearly took Stahl’s horse for her own. Vaike merely was tossed into the carriage so they didn’t have to worry about him swinging his axe around like a crazy man. Soren, like many of the others of the Shepherds, decided to abstain from partaking from the drinking, if not, at least one glass.

Soren chuckled at the memories, recalling even if it was on strained time, it was still worth it. The East Khan surely knew how to throw a party and the entertainer for the night, the young dancer Olivia was surely an amazing performer, she even managed to have Chrom blushing for the entire time. Now that Soren thought about it, he did remember the prince trying to speak to her after but couldn’t work up the courage to do it.

“Hey, is it just me or—” Soren grunted aggressively, startled once more by Kellam’s sudden presence being recognized. Even though Soren has kept an eye out for this male, it’s been rather challenging to catch him before he makes him jump in surprise. Soren nearly ended up tossing his journal at the impenetrable fortress that was the soldier. He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry Kellam, I didn’t notice you there.” Soren apologized with the knight smiling lightly. “Oh it’s all right, it’s not the first time that’s happened.” Which made it all the more uncomfortable for that brief moment. “Umm….right, so what was it you were saying?”

“Oh, I was saying have you noticed Chrom has been sort of bashful since we returned??” Kellam questioned. The tactician raised a brow, clearly not connecting the dots as Stahl joined the duo, lugging heavy box over his shoulder. “Really?”

“Yes, I noticed it after that dancer’s performance, I think Chrom got a little star struck.”

“Chrom? You’re speaking about the prince Chrom, correct??” Soren repeated, kind of finding his claim hard to believe. He noticed Chrom never seemed to be the sort of man to be looking for a relationship at the moment, the way he easily slides away from Sumia's attention. That or he was really thick when it came to noticing someone is head over heels for him. “Really???”

“Kellam’s right,” Stahl piped in, settling the crate down on top of some others. “You can see it in his face, especially when we were heading back to Ylisse. It’s really subtle expressions but it seems like our captain may have a crush.” Stahl analyzed causing Soren to blink a few times. Was he able to deduce emotions from mere body motions or slight appearance?

“It’s definitely something Chrom needs to consider, he needs to get married before he turns 21.” Kellam noted.

“Wait, what?” That sounded odd. From the brief rummage of Ylisse law books, he hadn’t seen anything that pertained to when royalty had to marry. Stahl hummed in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not exactly sure what it is, but from my understanding, at a certain age, in order to ensure the royal line would be preserved, they have to get married.”

“What about Lady Emmeryn?” Soren inquired. He was positive he had not seen a ring bestowed upon her finger. Nor were there any suitors that had waited along the side of the castles to constantly ask for her hand. Kellam shook his head at this part.

“She’s the Exalt, in a sense, she’s already the Queen of Ylisse. Since she became the Exalt at such a young age, she necessarily doesn’t need to get married. She sort of has a leeway to choice whether or not if she wants to, which is nice, that she gets a choice in that matter,” Kellam explained, “but for Chrom and Lissa, they do need to get married, not only by law or consul, but by the view of the people. It sort of gives them hope to see something as happy as marriage, children, interacting, etc.”

Soren blinked a few times, finding it rather….strange that in a way, the marriage was supposed to usher in prosperity, hope, and peace, an age of calm from the many years of war the people of Ylisse has suffered from. Lady Emmeryn must have been a terrific job at cleaning the prior mess but he could only imagine that their family was still painted in a bad image. His lips quirked at the idea, now beginning to realize the tremendous burden the family has to carry upon their shoulders to rebuild, not only their kingdom, but also their family’s good name.

“It’s kind of a strange rule now that I think about it.” Stahl admitted with Kellam nodding in agreement.

With that conversation coming to an end, the rest of the unloading finally was nearly done, and Soren thoughts began to unravel. Humming at the collection of events from the prior night, his thoughts began to linger to the tournament. The minute he was thinking in combat, Marth had managed to efficiently sneak around him to land a crushing blow. It was as if he /knew/ what he was going to plan next. It was strange almost, for a young man to fight so similarly to Chrom and yet….no one knew who he was exactly.

Soren’s eyes narrowed, his lips quirking as he gently settled a crate down beside the others, heading over to grab some of the spare weapons from the carriage. Standing beside was Sumia and Frederick, each discussing something he couldn’t quite catch when they both caught notice of him.

“Oh Soren, here, I’ll take care of this.” Sumia insisted when Soren went to grab an arm full of lances. The tacitian raised a brow as Sumia smiled reassuringly, taking a few steps further before tripping, nearly earning both of the men to gasp sharply. “I-I’m okay!!! Really!” Sumia called out. She hastily returned to her feet, grabbing the lances before hurrying down to the Garrison.

“What was that about?” Soren questioned with Frederick sighing gently beside. “She commented how she wish she could be of more use to the army, even though I know on the inside she does her hardest to work for it. She insisted to start following in my footsteps in what I do in my dedication for the Shepherds.” Frederick explained as Soren slowly met his gaze, rather in disbelief.

“But you tend to everything Frederick,” Soren recognized. “Indeed I do, I’m afraid I’m going to have to double check everything in the end.” Frederick merely sighed once more, “At least she’s coming from a good place in heart.”

“I suppose she is.” Soren agreed as Frederick hummed, turning to look at Soren. “Have you learned anymore from this suppose Marth?”

“No, I checked the documents of listed mercenaries in Regna Ferox and I could find nothing on this Marth character.” Soren answered with Frederick giving a heavy sigh in return. It was strange but during the course of returning back to Ylisse, Soren and Frederick were sort of bonding over this, also in an agreement to train better. In order to better suit him as tactician of the army after the….credible disappointment he had in the tournament. Whenever they had momentarily taken a break, Frederick and Soren spared, and it was easy to say that Soren was trailing fairly behind as they marched. It was clear that Frederick would one day be in charge of the Ylisse’s knights, that much was certain.

“It seems this is going to be a growing predicament, I hope that he is not the foe that he is certainly making himself appear as.” Frederick relented in reaching for more weapons when his attention was averted. Soren’s brows furrowed, catching a loud flapping above. The men looked over to the side seeing a white Pegasus landing, a woman hastily jumping off, by the far look of it, it was Phila.

“Milady, what is the matter??” Frederick called out but Phila was in no stance to talk, hurrying past the gentlemen and into the castle. Soren and Frederick darted glances to each other briefly but they both automatically moved to the entrance of the castle, catching the royal siblings turning to Phila.

“Your Grace! M-milord! Forgive me, but I bring alarming news!” Phila exasperated hastily. Emmeryn frowned, holding a hand to the knight’s shoulder. “Phila! Slow down, please! What’s happened?”

“Plegian soldiers have been sighted inside our southwest border! They attacked a village in Themis and abducted the duke’s daughter.” Phila explained clearly after regaining a breathe. This however troubled Lissa as she jumped, startled by the news. “B-But that would be Maribelle!” Lissa panicked. She quickly turned to Chrom and her older sister. “Chrom, we have to do something!”

“There’s more unfortunately,” Phila expressed that caused Chrom to frown, “King Gangrel of Plegia claims Lady Maribelle invaded HIS country. He demands we pay reparations for this ‘insult’.”

Chrom growled angrily, throwing his hand to the side. “And we’re to believe a dastard like the Mad King of Plegia? I don’t like it at all!” Chrom snapped. “Peace, Chrom.” Emmeryn turned to her brother, her lips pressed tightly together. “We must keep our wits about us.”

“We should put a sword in his gut and be done with it! The Mad King has been trying to provoke war with Ylisse at every step! He won’t stop until he drags this whole continent to hell with him!”

“Chrom!” Emmeryn chided harshly. Phila however, stood up for the prince. “I agree with the prince, Your Grace. We must demonstrate to Plegia that such actions have consequences.” Emmeryn sighed, folding her hands neatly over her dress. She turned to look at Chrom and kept the proper expression on her face.

“I understand your feelings, Chrom. Truly I do. But if we give him the war he wants, then we lose, no matter what the outcome. Our last conflict nearly ruined the halidom. It left Ylisseans homeless and starving. We cannot repeat that mistake. Instead,” Emmeryn’s expression turned into one of a determined resolve, “I will offer King Gangrel parley.”

“Emm, no! You can’t!” Lissa suddenly burst with Phila agreeing, “Please reconsider, Your Grace. He cannot be trusted to act in good faith!”

“So either we choose to march to war or leave Lady Maribelle to die?” Emmeryn demanded, silencing those that could further oppose her ideals. “No. I will not accept that.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I spoke out of turn.” Phila remarked, “I know you will stand always by your own principles. Pray, allow the Pegasus knights to accompany you, though.”

Emmeryn nodded at the offer with Chrom looking to Emmeryn sternly. “I’m going too. Someone has to save you from your good intentions.”

“And I want to be there for you AND Maribelle!” Lissa piped in as Emmeryn smiled sweetly. “As you wish. Thank you all. Your strength will be mine.” Emmeryn remarked.

Soren ceased from the entrance hall as Frederick exited moments later, exhaling loudly. It wasn’t for the fact that the grave news of a fellow Shepherd being kidnapped, it was also for the fact that the Mad King was beginning to make his first official moves against the halidom. Soren cringed at the idea of what a man of his status could want war so eagerly but pushed it to the side in order to focus on the critical actions to come.

“Shepherds!” Frederick barked, catching the attention of those close by such as Stahl, Kellam, Lon’qu, and Sully. “Reset the carriage at once! We make for the Western boarders now! Maribelle has been kidnapped!” At the sound of the fellow Shepherd’s name, Vaike cursed loudly, hurling the box he had back into the carriage and hurriedly began repacking with Sully hollering for Sumia to hurry back with the lances she took.

Soren frowned and turned finding Chrom returning to the group, his expression far from happy. “Are you all right, Chrom?” Soren decided to ask as the prince shook his head. “Not even close. This damn Mad King. I’m not sure what he would even gain from but war and chaos. He just wants to drag the whole continent with him to burn!” Chrom scoffed angrily.

Soren nodded, focused once more on Frederick’s quick commands and assistance to set up the carriage, Phila moving outside to rejoin with her Pegasus. Chrom exhaled heavily as Lissa joined, a solemn expression lingering on her face. “Maribelle is going to be okay, right Chrom?” Lissa questioned quietly causing both men to turn. Chrom smiled, brushing a stray hair off of Lissa’s forehead.

“Don’t worry, I believe Emm will be able to get Maribelle safely back.” Chrom insisted. “Soren and I will come up with a plan in the meanwhile, for after Maribelle is safe, for I’m sure the Mad King won’t let us walk away that easily.”

“Yeah…I had a feeling that was going to happen too,” Lissa sighed gently, rubbing her cheek. Chrom frowned at the sight of his sister’s dismay and Soren couldn’t help but rub his neck, looking briefly towards the other Shepherds. It could’ve happened to any of them, but it happened to Maribelle. Soren hummed softly and looked back to Lissa, smiling lightly.

“Don’t worry Lissa, it’s my job to keep all the Shepherds safe, Maribelle included, we will get her back.” Soren promised. Chrom smiled thankfully behind Lissa’s back with the younger princess smiling softly at the gesture. “Thanks Soren. I shouldn’t be worried, I know Maribelle is tough enough to handle herself too! I’ll get ready with everyone else! I bet Emm is going to be ready any minute!”

“Go on ahead Lissa, we’ll be out here.” Lissa nodded and headed back down the great hallway as Chrom sighed softly, his relieved expression slowly morphing in to one of concern, catching Soren’s own concern. “Are you all right Chrom?”

“I know I shouldn’t worry…but I can’t help but to over what’s going to happen. I don’t…exactly trust myself being out there.” Chrom admitted.

“You?” Soren repeated.

“Yes, this Mad King….he simply gets me so angry—all the senseless violence he’s causing!” Chrom’s expression turned comical as he attempted to hold back his anger, his lips pressed tightly as his brows furrowed. Soren was sort of surprised to hear numbers emitting from the prince’s lips and his face dropping its red tint. He sighed, pressing his forearm against his forehead. “I’m not like Emmeryn, to keep her morals as she does, even in the face of all the abuse and ridicule she’s gone over the years. I learned to toughen up over the cries that I’ll end up turning into my father—Emmeryn—she’s kept smiling, even after all these years.”

Chrom turned to face the hall, finding his eldest sister talking with Lissa, smiling reassuringly. Soren looked over as well, humming softly. To think about all of their pressure…..it seemed strange to imagine how everyday they can continue smiling as they do. Soren scratched his neck before pressing a firm hand on Chrom’s shoulder.

“Chrom, I promise, we’ll think of something.” Soren smiled reassuringly, settling the Prince’s tense expression. “Right, there’s no need to worry right now. We’ll need to stay vigilant.”

“Right.” Soren nodded firmly at the order when all Frederick joined the duo, nodding. “We’re ready to mobilize whenever you’re ready my lord, Lady Emmeryn is joining the Pegasus Knights as we speak.”

“Thank you Frederick, we’ll be out shortly.”

**********************************

Chrom, Soren, and Lissa walked through the courtyard, ready to meet with the rest of the volunteered Shepherds that agreed to take part in the mission.

“Well then? Is everyone ready to go?” Chrom questioned. “It’s a long march through the western mountains to the Plegian border.”

“We sure are captain!” A young boy joined the trio, Soren blinking wildly at the sight. He wore a mage’s outfit similar to what Miriel wore, except adorned with blue cape and hat as a difference. He remembered briefly seeing his face before but Soren didn’t imagine he was a part of the Shepherds already. Chrom frowned at the sight of the young boy, resting his arms on his sides.

“Captain! I’m all packed! When do we leave?!” the boy asked energetically.

“Ricken? How did you….” Chrom began but firmly shook his head. “Go back inside. You’re not old enough for this mission.” Ricken’s face dropped at the news, frowning at the sound.

“But, Captain! You know my skill with magic! You know I can handle myself!” Ricken argued.

Chrom shook his head, sighed and rested his pam on his hip. “I’d feel safer with your magic here, protecting the garrison.” Chrom insisted. Ricken’s expression dropped once more, his arms dropping to his side. Soren darted his attention to Chrom momentarily before looking to Lissa, seeing she had frowned at the sight.

“All right? Now then, we’re off. Be good while we’re gone.” Chrom ordered before turning on his heel. He beckoned for Soren and Lissa to follow, Lissa hesitating on following but nevertheless did. Soren on the other hand, sighed, turning to Ricken.

“I’m sorry, maybe you can prove yourself in the next mission.” Soren offered as a condolence. Ricken however pouted, crossing his arms firmly against his chest. “….I’ll show him just how good I can be!” Ricken promised causing Soren to raise a brow of suspicion. However, he wasn’t going to jump at the boys action’s and turned, resuming after Chrom and Lissa to join the others.

The journey will be long and perilous, but Soren knows he’s going to have a plan ready at hand.


	9. The Exalt and the Mad King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All right! Another chapter is up! This one came out sooner than expected since I had the weekend off so I hope you enjoy this chapter too! From this point the drama shall begiiiinnn. All the fun shall now be exploited, bwa ha ha ha! 
> 
> Ahem. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for all the supporters of this story. I really do appreciate it. I love to hear the advice and hopefully I begin to incorporate it more into the story. I hope you enjoy this chapter and until next time, have fun!

_“He that is kind is free, though he is a slave; he that is evil is a slave, though he be a king.”_

_-Saint Augustine_

Traveling through the country, it was clear the Shepherds were armed to the tooth with the Pegasus knights following closely behind. Emmeryn led with Chrom and Lissa, Soren and Frederick not far behind them. Soren kept a weary guard, making brief conversation with Stahl and Vaike to keep his mind off the tense situation. It took about the entire night to reach to the western boarders, passing by several villages that seemed to have been burned to the torch. Soren’s brows furrowed at the memory, recalling the people that remained, the bodies that went untouched on the streets. It was a blood bath—clearly caused by the Plegians that had stormed over the border.

They were collecting all the evidence by now, some even recalling having seen the Duke’s daughter defending them and allowing them to escape. They recalled how she was violently forced from her horse and dragged away, kicking and screaming for the brutes to unhand her. Even her horse was left behind, having been tended by the villagers in the meantime until her owner could come back and claim her. It was clear that these men were going to pay for their actions. Passing from these villages, it was from Sumia’s and Stahl’s observations that Soren was able to see the stern expression on Chrom’s face, finding his frown increase.

His thoughts drew back to the previous night where Chrom had admitted he wasn’t like Emmeryn. No, it was clear he wasn’t, because while Emmeryn managed to compress her emotions to the horrible circumstances, Chrom was passionate. He was passionate about his people, about how the injustice in the worlds were handled, even if peace was something he sought for, he would take the measures of doing what he had to in order to get peace. Even if it meant to fight.

Soren wrote in his journal, detailing his thoughts and accomplishing his next tactics onto the battlefield, recalling how aggressive Frederick’s training and suggestions had influenced his decisions. Slowly but surely he was starting to make smarter tactics, growing to cover everyone’s weakness by improving the bonds in combat. Now it was clear to say that Virion not only could work well with Sumia on the field, he was also able to fight with Frederick, even if it’s brief since the Paladin is able to handle himself. Soren quirked his lips, looking from the carriage as Vaike continued to talk bluntly about something from his old home town, earning a reprimand from Miriel to ‘shut his incompetent thoughts,’.

It wasn’t long before they finally reached what was the western borders of the Ylisse. The scenery changed from the lush greens to a desert, the grasslands completely faded away in sand and wilted, browned vegetation.  Dust picked up briefly to reveal an army lingering on the other side of the border, two appearing the closet on a cliff.

“What’s this, then?” The man on the ledge claimed, smirking widely. “The Exalt herself in all her radiance? I fear I must shield my eyes! Bwa ha ha ha ha!” the man cackled loudly as Soren’s eyes narrowed. The way he was dressed appeared very much the style of royalty, but something about his presence and even the woman behind him—something was very off about them.

“King Gangrel, I’ve come for the truth of this unfortunate incident between us.” Emmeryn demanded, unfazed by his unprofessional attitude.

“The truth? I can give you the truth.” The woman behind Gangrel claimed. Emmeryn eyes narrowed and her stance slightly adjusted to face the woman. “Perhaps milady might first share her name?”

“You may call me Aversa,” She cooed with a slight bow.

“Very well, Aversa. Is Maribelle unharmed?”

“Who? Oh yes, the little blonde brat.” Gangrel picked at his ear, snapping his fingers causing most of the Shepherds to look ahead, finding one of the Plegian soldiers moving ahead, a figure struggling wildly in front of him, steely saying firmly, “Unhand me, you gutter-born troglodyte!”

“Maribelle!” Lissa shouted, only receiving a hand on her shoulder from Frederick, bond to hold her back from throwing herself into harm’s way. “Lissa? Darling, is that you?!” but gods, did it hurt to see Lissa’s face consort to pain at the sight of her friend, waving back at her response to show she was there for her. Aversa however chuckled at the sight, shaking her head.

“This girl crossed the Plegian border without our consent. And what’s more…she wounded the brave Plegian soldiers who sought only to escort her safely home.” Aversa explained with Maribelle glaring at her direction, viciously struggling from her captor’s hands.

“LIES! You speak nothing but lies, hag!” Maribelle boldly countered, “Did they not teach you the meaning of the word “truth” in wretched-crone school?!”

Aversa huffed, rolling her eyes, smirking cruelly, “You see? No manners at all. Such a nasty little bird simply had to be caged.”

“Such a violent temper speaks to her guilt. This will call for a weighty punishment and if she were to later confess to being an Ylissean spy?” King Gangrel shook his head, waving a hand to fan himself, “My goodness! It would take an act of CONSIDERABLE good faith to repair our relations.”

“I have done nothing wrong! It is they who should confess!” Maribelle snapped, “They are the ones who invaded Ylisse! They razed an entire village! When I attempted to intervene, they took me and dragged me across the border. Let the plundered shops and charred homes of that village serve as my proof!”

It was clear that then it was true, that Maribelle was in fact in the same village they had visited earlier. Chrom’s lips pressed tightly as Emmeryn sighed softly when Gangrel rolled his eyes, pressing a hand to his chest. “That would only prove Ylisse has a bandit problem—something I hear oft of late. But indeed, tonight I shall weep salty tears into my pillow for your dead villagers.”

“Your Grace, please!”

“Peace, Maribelle, I believe you.” Emmeryn turned to the King of Plegia once more, her expression turning firm. “King Gangrel, I request that you release this woman at once. Surely you and I can sort out these affairs without the need for hostages.”

“Without so much as an apology? Why should I even bother with parley” Gangrel responded smugly, scoffing exaggeratedly, “I’m within my rights to have her head this instant and be home in time for supper.”

“You black-hearted devil!” Chrom outburst causing Gangrel to sneer at his direction, rolling his eyes and wave nonchalantly in his direction.

“Control your dog, my dear, before he gets someone hurt.” Gangrel responded causing the young prince to growl in frustration. “Now then, Your Graceliness. Perhaps we can arrange a trade? You give me the Fire Emblem, and I return Mari Contrary here in one piece.”

The…..Fire Emblem?

Soren blinked, having briefly recalled seeing the name in random passages of Ylisse’s history long ago against what was the Fell Dragon. There seemed to be a legend about it but it seemed extremely far fetch. Yet he didn’t know exactly what it was other than the royal treasure of Ylisse as Emmeryn questioned Gangrel.

“Because I know the legend! The Fire Emblem is the key to having all one’s wishes realized. I have desired it for years. YEARS!” Gangrel laughed, “Yet my birthday comes and goes each year, and nothing from Ylisse. Hehehe.”

“The Emblem’s power is meant for a single purpose, King Gangrel: to save the world and its people at their hour of most desperate need. Would you claim a more noble wish?”

“I want what every Plegian wants—a grisly end for every last Ylissean!” Gangrel cackled loudly with the growing tension growing tenfolds, Pegasus knights coming closer towards Lady Emmeryn. Soren narrowed his eyes, frowning at the sight as the Mad King was truly living up to his name. “What could be more noble than that??”

“What?” Emmeryn demanded, her tone changing from her composed to one of shock.

“Surely you have not forgotten what the last exalt did to my people?” Gangrel demanded cruelly, “your father named us heathens! His ‘crusade’ across Plegia butchered countless of my subjects and my kin!”

The air grew thick at the accusation and Soren’s whole body grew cold at the thought. That’s why the Royal family was coated in a bad name—their father—he nearly murdered an entire nation. But why would he lead such a conquest against the people in the first place. To be called heathens, something must have called for arms against them, unless he truly had prejudice towards the Plegian people. Soren gritted his teeth slightly and he darted his attention towards Chrom, Emmeryn, and Lissa, seeing their expression mixed of denial, guilt, patience, and anger. Yet Emmeryn was truly the only one to have kept a steady expression.

“…I have never denied Ylisse’s past wrongdoings. But I have sworn to never repeat those mistakes. Ours is now a realm of peace.” Emmeryn admitted with the King of Plegian scoffing loudly, resting his thumb and middle finger on his temples, shaking his head.

“Yours is now a haven of hypocrisy! Now give me the Fire Emblem!” King Gangrel commanded. Emmeryn stood her ground, her lips tightening with Phila joining close behind. Maribelle shook from her captors grip, shaking her head wildly, one of her bow ties falling loose to spill her blonde locks.

“No, Your Grace! I’d sooner die than act as a bargaining chip for this filthy reprobate!” Maribelle shouted. Lissa clasped her hands over her mouth, her eyes beginning to water with Emmeryn exhaling loudly.

“Ah that’s it!” Vaike hissed, grabbing his axe but two Shepherds were grabbing his shoulders, holding him back from even daring to charge into battle. Yet Soren knew it was something everyone had in mind of doing. They were a tight knit group, they probably couldn’t handle potential watching a fellow comrade being murdered right in front of them.

“No, Maribelle…”

“UGH! Taaaaaaalk talk-talk talk talk. It’s time to speak louder than words!” The Mad King declared and Maribelle gasped, snapping her attention over to him, even from the distance, it was clear her pupils were constricting. Oh gods. They needed to do something about this and get to Maribelle. Even Chrom had shot him a glance to which Soren nodded, holding his tome carefully within his grip. “The negotiation is over, Your Luminosity! I shall have the Emblem if I have to pry it from your shiny dead hands!” King Gangrel snapped his fingers and four of his warriors were moving to Emmeryn and Chrom, Lissa backing up due to Chrom’s request. Chrom swung out his sword, standing protectively before his sister as one of the soldiers charged, swinging his axe.

“Chrom!” Emmeryn called out with Chrom blocking the heavy weapon, gritting his teeth. The soldier backed off, swinging once more but Chrom caught the axe, twisting it out of his opponent’s hands and slashing across his chest, blood coating the ground as the soldier fell. Soren gritted his teeth as King Gangrel hummed loudly with Chrom snapping his attention back to the other Plegian soldiers. This is exactly what Gangrel wanted. Even Emmeryn must have known.

“Stay back! Or you’ll all suffer the same fate!” Chrom barked. The Mad King grinned wildly, even from the sight of one his soldiers being taken down in cold blood. Soren gritted his teeth, sighing aggressively as Frederick took upon his warhorse, signaling Sully and Stahl to release their grip on Vaike.

“Now that’s a declaration of war if I’ve ever heard one…a big, messy war that will bleed you Ylisseans dry. Bwa ha ha ha!” King Gangrel laughed loudly, his soldiers beginning to assemble. Chrom darted his attention back and forth, momentarily glancing towards his bloodstained sword, clenching his teeth. He snapped his attention to Gangrel, watching as the man began to retreat, ordering his commander to leave no survivors before escaping. There was no use in trying to catch up with that man, they needed to ensure their safety.

 “Take Emmeryn somewhere safe—Shepherds! We’re cutting a path! Let’s go!” Emmeryn frowned at the sight but Phila quickly came over, Chrom turning his head to face the Captain of the Pegasus knights, “Keep her safe!” Phila nodded and focused her attention once more on Emmeryn, begging the Exalt to hurry with the Pegasus Knights. It didn’t take much to convince Emmeryn as she quickly joined Phila’s side, being guarded by the few that joined in her cause.

“Now we’re talking!” Vaike snapped, swinging his axe over his shoulder. Several Plegian soldiers were charging ahead to block Emmeryn escape but Soren was quick to his feet, sending a bolt of lightning to instantly kill one who grew too close. Lon’qu was quick to join in Soren’s pace, sprinting to leap and catch a swordsman swipe, deflecting and swinging his sword skillfully. It wasn’t long with Vaike and Miriel joining causes to take out the others, providing immediate relief to the Pegasus knights to get Emmeryn onto a Pegasus and quickly ascending to the sky.

Soren bolted out orders, having Frederick and Stahl cut a path with Chrom and Sully joining close behind. Miriel and Vaike keeping their grounds with Kellam and Virion providing defense from behind. Sumia provided an air lift to Lissa, keeping her safe and quick attacks up above from the sky. Lon’qu and Soren were quick to move into a synchronized movements, using quick, precise attacks to lead to deadly counters against those that stood in their path.  

Even if Lon’qu was merely ordered by Basilio to assist, it was easy to tell he was certainly going to be an asset to the army, considering all the experience he has in warfare. Lon’qu moved with a certain aggressive grace in the battlefield, something Soren hadn’t seen in the others. Soren quickly fired an elthunder, catching a soldier in the arm allowing Lon’qu to finish him off, earning a nod from the silent warrior.

“WHOA! ‘SCUSE ME!” Soren turned and rolled out of the way, Lon’qu jumping away as a horse bolted through, magic hastily being fired to the mage that Lon’qu was about to face. Soren groaned, shaking his head to look up finding the horse cutting through the field quickly, avoiding the spells and thrown axes heading its way. Soren’s eyes narrowed, finding the rider was gripping onto an oversized, blue hat—wait—no—it couldn’t be.

“Is that…the boy from yesterday? Ricken?!” Soren questioned with Lon’qu coming close, offering a hand to the tactician. He quickly took his extended hand and was assisted up, snapping his attention to follow Ricken’s path, finding he was cutting up the mountain path to where Maribelle was. Sumia and Lissa settled upon the ground, Lissa offering to heal Sully of the heavy injury she took to her shoulder. Yet as she healed the soldier, Ricken cut across the field, earning a loud gasp from the medic.

“Ricken!? What is he doing here?!” Lissa questioned, Chrom channeling his attention over when he finished off another soldier. “What?! Ricken’s here!”

“Yeah! He just cut up towards where Maribelle is!” Sully explained with Chrom snapped his attention up towards the cliff side. “Damn it! Sumia, Soren, Lon’qu! With me!”

“Right, captain!” Sumia nodded and flew ahead, Chrom, Soren, and Lon’qu covering on the ground. More Plegian soldiers cut through their path, attempting to block the new threat from stopping the process.

“Poor, stupid girl, are you really worth fighting a war over?” Aversa questioned, “Years from now, you’ll be remembered only as she who destroyed House Ylisse.”

“No…that’s not…Oh, Lissa, please, no…” Maribelle dropped her head, the edge of her eyes forming tears.

Aversa stood readily, the tips of her nails glowing darkly as a seal formed underneath her. Oh gods, they weren’t going to make it in time to Maribelle. “Maribelle!” Lissa screamed as Maribelle shot her head to the side, shutting her eyes. Though no attack came, not to Maribelle at least. A gust of wind blew around the Plegian soldier holding Maribelle back, knocking him away and severing Maribelle’s binds. Maribelle was clearly taken aback with yet another wind spell lashing at Aversa. The Plegian woman hissed, blocking herself from the gales when she looked around.

“Who did that come from?!” Aversa demanded viciously.

“Maribelle! Go! You’re free! Who-Whoa girl!” Both women turned finding a young boy trotting upon a horse, attempting to keep a hold of the hat from flying off his head. He cut the space between Aversa and Maribelle, only earning an alarmed look from Maribelle. “Ricken?! What are you doing here?!”

“Just get on! We can talk about it later!” Ricken declared.

Aversa could only watch before chuckling loudly, catching the young mage’s attention, “Oh, is this your little boyfriend? Isn’t he just precious?” Ricken twitched, turning around on the horse as Maribelle quickly settled herself upon her horse, brushing her mane and quietly thanking her for getting Ricken here.

“Don’t talk down to me, witch!” Ricken snapped and threw his hand forward, a seal forming beneath him, wind blowing wildly around him before launching it at the Plegian woman. She skidded back, gasping aggressively. “Yo-You!”

Ricken grinned, sticking his tongue out playfully as Maribelle snapped at the reins, nearly causing the poor boy to fall off unless Maribelle gripped onto the back of his cape. Maribelle’s horse sped down the path, Aversa clenching her teeth and waved her hand, a dark seal forming upon her hand. Soren looked up from the lower cliff, gritting his teeth and opened his tome, hoping to be able to take a shot from such a far distance. Chrom and Lon’qu were hurrying up the barren road, cutting open a path for Maribelle and Ricken to reach safety.

“Soren! Get on!” Sumia insisted and Soren nodded quickly, leaping onto Sumia’s Pegasus to fly up, holding a hand out. Now he had a better aim. “Elthunder!” the electricity zipped across the air, catching the Plegian woman off guard, throwing her off her feet at the impact. She hissed loudly and Soren smirked, snapping his attention now towards Ricken and Maribelle, finding them meeting up with Lon’qu and Chrom.

“Sumia, let’s head back, we just need to rid of the commander!”

“What about—oh! She’s gone?!” Soren raised a brow, snapping his attention down to the ground. Aversa was gone. Completely vanished. No, that’s completely impossible. Where could she have gone?

“Let’s not worry, we’ll focus about it later,” Soren frowned and shook his head, meeting Sumia’s concerned glance. Soren nodded reassuringly as Sumia nodded, humming as she looked over the field, watching as most of the Shepherds had cleared out many of the Plegian soldiers, leaving Frederick and Stahl to take on the commander.

“Perhaps I’ll leave you here and retrieve Phila, the battle is nigh to its end.” Sumia suggested with Soren nodding in agreement. He could trust Frederick to finish off the commander, abeit, all the concern would be if Lissa and Maribelle would be able to handle healing those who got injured. Especially speaking from Maribelle’s case, after all that she went through, it would be well to make sure she was all right.

“All right, settle me down near where Lissa is, if you may.” Sumia nodded, guiding her Pegasus to swoop downwards from the sky and closely to the ground, trotting briefly just enough for Soren to jump off. The tactician turned, looking upwards to the sky finding the knight ascend back in the direction of where the other Pegasus Knights retreated to. Soren hummed softly, rubbing his neck as Lissa quickly joined by his side.

“Soren, are you okay?! Do you know if Maribelle is okay?!” Lissa inquired hastily. Before Soren could answer, the sound of hoofs echoed near them and the duo turned to find Maribelle’s horse heading down to meet with them. “Oh, Maribelle!” Maribelle leapt off from horse, hurrying to join the young princess, enveloping her in a tight hug, her body shaking. “Are you hurt, Maribelle?!”

“Nothing I didn’t return twofold, darling.” Maribelle comforted, smiling proudly. Lissa sniffed, squeezing Maribelle as Maribelle lost her composure, smiling gravely. “Lissa, my darling, I’m sorry I worried you.”

“I’m glad you’re safe Maribelle, I think we’re all glad it didn’t turn worse.” Soren offered as Maribelle released her hug from Lissa, wiping the corner of her eye and exhaling steadily.

“Who…? Oh, it’s you Soren.” Maribelle acknowledged, surprisingly. Soren smiled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck gently.

“Yes, I know you’re not especially fond of me, but it’s a relief just the same to see you’re all right.” Soren told her. Maribelle, in a state of shock, shook her head, resting a hand over her chest.

“Oh, it’s not a question of fondness. I am simply protective of Lissa. My treasure is very sensitive and I…” Maribelle caught herself, her eyes widening. “Wait. Am I really justifying myself to a commoner? Gods…” She brushed her loosen hair, obtaining the strand of ribbon and began to fix her hair properly. “Yes, well, I do…apologize for being so curt.”

“And?” Lissa pressed, resting her knuckles against her hips. Maribelle pouted, a faint blush spilling over her face.

“And, you have my thanks for your part in the rescue. There, I said it!” Maribelle finished. A smile had escaped however from her and Soren could only smile back, rather flattered by the turn of events with the young royal. “Thank you Maribelle, but it’s okay. You’re a Shepherd after all, we need to have each other’s back.”

Maribelle smiled at the comment, curtsying in appreciation. Lissa grinned, briefly hugging her once more as the other Shepherds joined in, asking if Maribelle was all right and congratulating her and Ricken for combating through the Plegian troops. Minutes later, the Pegasus Knights returned from the skies, Emmeryn being assisted off to join by her brother’s side once more as Chrom sighed softly, rubbing his neck.

“Forgive me, Emm. I acted rashly.” Chrom apologized, bowing his head. Maribelle shared the same expression, bowing her head as well in forgiveness.

“It’s all right, Chrom. King Gangrel is the one at fault here. You were only protecting me.” Emmeryn rejected the idea, shaking her head. Chrom nodded slowly and sighed with Frederick joining Prince’s side.

“The Mad King will be rallying his forces, if they have not mobilized already. I suggest we make hast back to Ylisstol and discuss our strategy.” Frederick decided with Emmeryn nodding in approval.

“Of course, Frederick. It seems war is upon us. We must protect the Ylissean people at all costs.” Emmeryn agreed. Soren frowned at the idea but knew the idea was inevitable. It’s exactly what the Mad King wanted and it’s exactly what they’ve been prepared for. War was at their doorstep and they would do whatever it takes to win it.


	10. This is Gospel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Next chapter is out and this one is a doozy~
> 
> This one is extra longer, about 12 pages in total so it'll be a good read. I had fun with chapter but work came in the way a lot and lack of sleep certainly kept me from finishing this. 
> 
> Thank you for all the wonderful viewers and readers, I appreciate all the support and kudos! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did. Until next time!

_"Assembling their philosophies_

_From pieces of broken memories"_

**_Panic at the Disco_ **

_“War is going to outbreak throughout the entire halidom! We need to be prepared and guard our borders!”_

_“What about the people?! The Plegian scoundrels are still gonna find holes to sneak through and kill countless of innocent lives!”_

_“We need to invoke the draft now! By day break tomorrow we need to let the entire halidom start getting all abled body men to fight!”_

_“And send those farmers with no experience only to die again?! Are you daft?! Haven’t we learned from before! We can’t—we need Regna Ferox’s assistance on this matter!”_

_“We already have Feroxi warriors! Countless numbers! We’re going to be forever indebted to the Feroxi’s at this rate if we keep soldiers from them!”_

_“Enough! Now, I’ve heard all your consul but I have to agree, we do need Regna Feroxi’s assistance. They are a vital ally that no doubt the war will be brought to their doorstep soon. We need to request to the Khans as soon as possible. Chrom, will you handle the matter?”_

“I reckon these city folks don’t know nuthin bout what to do.” Donnel admitted, peering out the opened flap of the Garrison. Vaike stood across from him, nodding in agreement. “You said it, Donny.”

Returning back to Ylisse, the Shepherds had taken a detour after discovering series of villages being raided, one of them having belonged to the newest Shepherd, Donnel. A mere farm boy, he seemed to show enough bravado in the field to join along with the Shepherds once they managed to go out and save his fellow villagers. Now the Shepherds were back, having their own war meeting with all those that could participate, being held by Soren and Frederick. Though the constant bickering from the Ylisse’s war consul seemed to be overshadowing theirs with the heated arguments.

Soren occasionally looked upwards, his eyes darting away from the board of soldiers. Virion seemed preoccupied with the moving conversations, humming and made his move. “It seems Ylisse’s form of democracy is rather shaky. To imagine this country falls upon the hands of those men, oh, for the beautiful Exalt, even this must be straining on her health.” Virion lament, knocking over one of Soren’s clearly strategized units, taking the Queen as his victory.

The tactician sat there, appalled at losing to Virion…for the eighth time that evening. Soren groaned, rubbing his face and slumped in his seat, rather wishing to change plans with Frederick, considering how easily Virion conquered his troops again in this game of chess. Stahl seemed to be watching over his shoulder, humming at the defeat.

“Well, wouldn’t you if your country was at war?” Soren grumbled.

“But of course I would! Oh, the mere idea is ghastly.” Virion grimaced, flaunting the white pawn in his gloved hand. “But it appears not only will this effect the dear Exalt, but Soren, you look a little troubled.”

“You’ve bested me again Virion, why wouldn’t I be a little worried?” Soren expressed, rubbing his temple. “I really do admit you have a gift for tactics, perhaps you would make the better tactician than I.”

“Nonsense Soren,” Virion argued, “You’re a brilliant tactician, and considering how our game ended—who took more causalities?” Soren stared at Virion before gazing down to the chess game, indeed surprised to see how many of the pawns that Soren had on his side. Well, it was rather easy getting them, it was just a matter of keeping his own pawns safe that was the tricky part. Stahl leaned over his shoulder, nodding.

“He’s right Soren, even though you lost, Virion only had five of his pawns left while you only lost the Queen and one pawn. Heck, I rather be on your team than Virion’s—no offense.” Stahl apologized. Virion chuckled over the matter, waving a hand.

“Alas, I would have to agree with Stahl. It’s why we put so much trust within you Soren.” Virion expressed.

Trust. So much trust was already being weighed upon his shoulders for the duties of the Shepherds’ livelihood. For the sake of his comrade’s lives, for the sake of innocent villagers, for the sake of the entire halidom at this rate, by the Gods, Soren was giving himself anxiety over the matter. Especially after deciding to take upon the financial duties of the Shepherds, he was surprised that they were able to purchase the items that had already. Honestly he was more surprised that the Bankers haven’t come to ask for the money back yet.

“I appreciate your trust in me, truly. Besides keeping all of you alive, it’s the necessary funding that needs to keep this army afloat before we could even go out into battle.” At the sound of money Stahl’s expression dropped, grumbling lightly and rubbed his neck

“Yeah, I don’t think I have much to offer unfortunately.” Stahl admitted sheepishly. Soren sighed in agreement, already recalling how he needed to sell some old equipment, nearly arguing with Frederick for an hour on what was good and what wasn’t.

“But if a handsome, honorable donation was to be made to the group—” Virion piped, brushing his bangs carefully from his face, “Then the army should be able fare to continue, no?”

Why….did that sound rather suspicious coming from Virion? Perhaps Soren was still bitter over losing to the noble but it sounded too casual to bring up. Soren however decided to nod his head, drumming his fingers upon the wooden table. Lissa entered into the Garrison, smiling boldly with her arms swinging from side to side. Frederick glanced over away from paperwork, raising a brow at the princess’s positive attitude.

“Milady, you seem rather jovial.” Frederick remarked with Lissa’s smile only widening. She dropped a bag of candy in front of Soren, a promise only he remembers that Lissa vowed to offer him candy for some strange reason. Was it because he admitted he couldn’t remember certain sweets?

“That’s because I have a solution to Soren’s financial problems since he decided to let me in about it!” Lissa replied. Soren raised a brow, sitting properly in his chair, resting his chin upon his gloved palm while some of the other Shepherds seemed to turn to Lissa’s remark. It seemed the spotlight had moved to the young princess as she took a chair, setting herself upon it with a quick fix of her dress.

 “Today, we received a lovely donation today!” Lissa announced, “Maribelle’s dad is going to make a donation along with a few other dukes!”

“What?!” Sully nearly spat out her drink with Stahl’s jaw dropping, yet on the other hand Vaike cheered loudly, if Donnel getting caught up on the cheering, the realization of the news still sinking in. Frederick and Soren shared surprised glances as Virion smirked, lifting his goblet and drinking to the news with Sumia smiling brightly and Ricken grinning. Yet the cheering halted when Maribelle entered upon the tent, her wounds having healed in the short amount of time. She stepped forward while Lissa decided to get off the chair. Maribelle exhaled, clutching her parasol closely to her being and stood in front of the majority of the group.

“As you’ve already heard from my darling Lissa, my father is making a fairly hefty donation to the Shepherds. It’s not only his thanks, but also mine,” Maribelle explained, “I acknowledge I have always been cantankerous to approach, but nevertheless. I am indebted to all of you after your bold actions the other day.” Maribelle thanked.

Soren blinked, taken aback by Maribelle’s actions as it seemed a majority of the other Shepherds had too. It seemed most didn’t even expect thanks coming from the young duchess. Vaike was actually the first to approach her, resting his hands firmly on his waist. His eyes narrowed gently, humming.

“Even to a buffoon, uncouth like me?” He decided to press. Maribelle’s lips pressed together, her fingers pressing against the folds of the parasol she held onto. Yet with a graceful smile, closing her eyes, she nodded. “Yes, even you Vaike, you have my thanks.”

“Finally! Now come here Maribelle!” Vaike pulled her into a hug, earning a wild grimace from Maribelle.

“UNHAND ME YOU BRUTE! PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT YOU OAF! OH, YOU STILL REEK OF THAT SLUM STENCH!”

“And there’s the Maribelle we know.” Stahl laughed lightly followed by with Sully and Sumia. Soren couldn’t help but laugh as well, relieving the tense weight from his shoulders ever so slightly. Even during these dark steps ahead, it was a good sign to hear everyone’s laughter ring through the Garrison causing Soren to smile gently. He stood up, briefly informing Frederick he was going on a stroll to get some air to which the knight complied with a weary hurry back.

Soren appreciated the moment of respite, rubbing the back of his neck. Even still, the foreboding feeling could not be completely taken off his shoulders. He crossed the courtyard, finding it was growing quieter than it had a few hours back, allowing his sense of mind to relax. His thoughts however grew to his palm once more, blinking slowly. He moved the thin leather off his right hand, finding the eyes upon the tattoo impended in his skin staring up to him. He quirked his lips, recalling his searches through the Ylisse’s library to find nothing on what his mark meant. However, he couldn’t help but feel something sinister was of origin from it. He exhaled gently, returning the glove upon his hand once more, concealing the tattoo.

Continuing on his walk, he lifted his gaze to find Chrom merely standing out by a garden. Soren halted momentarily, rather surprised to find Chrom out by himself. His expression seemed fogged within a wall of doubt. Soren quirked his lips, turning his direction towards Chrom.

“Chrom….?” Soren called out. In turn, Chrom sighed, his eyes barely meeting Soren’s before facing towards the wall once more. Soren raised a brow, now joining his side and rested a hand on his waist. “What are you doing out so late?”

“Just….dueling with some unpleasant thoughts…” Chrom admitted and Soren’s shoulders dropped, sighing.

“I can understand that feeling.” Soren agreed with Chrom nodding. He rubbed his neck tentatively, his eyes casting down the courtyard before meeting Soren’s gaze once more.

“Tomorrow we march to Regna Ferox to request additional soldiers. But…there’s something I want you to know first.” Chrom exclaimed. Soren raised a brow, tilting his head. Chrom sighed uncomfortably, dropping his hands to his sides. “Not everything Gangrel said was a lie…”

“Yes…I remember you mentioning this before we went to Plegia…about the crusade your father started.” Soren remarked with Chrom nodding.

“It was a brutal campaign, ending only with his death 15 years ago. Plegia rightfully remembers their suffering, but his war was no kinder to his own people. As the fighting dragged on, our army became more and more diminished. Farmers who could barely wield a pitchfork were conscripted and sent to their deaths. Soon there was no food at all, and the kingdom began to collapse.” Chrom explained.

Soren frowned at the mere idea of the man that was Chrom, Lissa’s and Emmeryn’s father, the previous exalt. He could only imagine how the experience had changed the children with their father’s death.

“Yes, you know my thoughts upon Emmeryn. When our father died before her 10th year, he left her quite the legacy. Plegia’s desire for vengeance…our own people’s unbridled rage…my sister became a target for blame from all sides. Her own subjects began to hurl insults—and stones,” Chrom frowned the mere memory, rubbing his own hand unconsciously. “She still bears the scar from one…”

Soren winched at the idea, a rock being thrown at the young, gentle woman. The same woman who never raised a hand against anyone, never to instill hate or violence in anyone, but love, kindness and acceptance. Emmeryn’s smile was something Soren had to admit though knowing her for last two months has been something of an experience. It had always brought hope, whether it’d be to her people, her soldiers, or her own family.

“It must have been so hard…” Soren admitted. Chrom nodded slowly.

“I don’t claim to know how she did it, to manage to heal our people, to bring the soldiers home and end the war. She never resented them for it. She represents the best of the halidom—the part most worth protecting. She IS peace.” Chrom sighed, casting his eyes to the side. “But men like King Gangrel, they would take advantage of that. The day he understands peace will be the day death gives it to him….so perhaps I must be death’s agent.” Soren remained silent, watching intently as Chrom sighed, his face souring at his own comment. “Emmeryn would never order him killed, nor would I wish her to. My actions out there were based on my own feelings, to which I could only hope that Emm can forgive me for. But men like King Gangrel, they will never change.”

“Well spoken, sir.”

“Marth…?” Both men spun to find Marth approaching them, resting a hand over his chest briefly to bow before straightening himself.

“Good evening to you.” Marth greeted with Chrom narrowing his eyes, resting his hand on the handle of his falchion.

“How did you get in here?” Chrom demanded.

“That cleft in the castle wall, behind the maple grove.” Marth quickly answered and Chrom’s eyes widen, gasping. Soren turned his head, raising a brow.

“You know of the place?” Soren questioned. Chrom’s cheeks flushed slightly, running a hand through his bangs and sighed, “Yes. I bashed in part of the wall while training the Shepherds. It’s only a small hole, and I’d thought it well concealed, but…”

“Your secret is safe with me, I come here only to warn you.” Marth expressed. Soren exhaled with Chrom frowning at the comment.

“Warn us?”

“The exalt’s life is in danger.” Marth declared. Soren’s eyes widen as did Chrom’s. Yet Chrom did not take the news as calmly, stepping forward.

“Emmeryn? That’s absurd. She’s guarded at all hours.” Chrom exclaimed. Marth seemed apprehensive, having noticed the slight parting of his lips before firming back into a line. Soren narrowed his eyes, now actually getting a better look at this Marth. Wait a second….something…seemed strange about him.

“What if…what if I told you I have seen the future? Would you believe me? A future where Emmeryn is killed. Here. Tonight.” Marth questioned. Chrom scoffed at the mere idea, shaking his head. However, Soren felt there was truth in Marth’s words. So far, Marth hasn’t exactly lied to them, he has hid secrets from them, but not outright lied to them.

“Seen the future? Have you lost your wits?” Chrom questioned. Marth sighed, resting a hand upon his side…why was it that Soren felt like something was wrong?!

“Yes, I expected you wouldn’t believe me so allow me to prove it!” Marth swung out his sword causing both men to take a step back. Chrom grabbed hold of his blade, narrowing his eyes with Soren quickly grabbing hold of his own. Marth never looked away from the two men, however, did for a mere moment. “I’m about to save your life. From him.”

Him?

Marth flipped his blade into the air, leaping up as an assassin charged from the shadows of the bushes, having missed his target, he turned when Marth easily cut him down, flicking the blood off the blade. Soren blinked wildly at the precise moments that Marth was capable of handling. It was almost too precise to know that an assassin was coming at that very moment, clearly Chrom being the intended target. 

“I trust this proof will suffice?” Marth questioned.

Chrom hesitantly nodded, uttering a small ‘yeah’ in response. However, the bushes rattled once more and leaping from the tree, a second assassin came to Marth. Marth, turning on his feet, accidently stepped upon the previous assassin’s blade. Tripping back, he just barely received a cut to his body, instead, his mask being sliced in half. Chrom was quick to move, killing the assassin before he could attack Marth as he stumbled back to his stance….or…..more so _her_ stance.

Soren stared as Marth met his glance, causing the tactician to turn away from his glance, flushing brightly. He knew something was wrong now that he was able to see Marth up close—but he never imagined Marth was actually a woman. Soren scratched his cheek, glad to have Chrom distract Marth’s attention. 

“So wait, you’re a woman?” Chrom questioned as Marth turned, smirking lightly.

“And quite the actress, too. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out until just now.” Marth admitted, her tone adjusting back to presuming how she actually sounds like. An explosion stole away their attention, all three sharing equal glances and rushed down the courtyard. Several shepherds were seen running into the fray, Sully killing off another thief who stood in her path. Vaike and Stahl were clearing a path to enter into the castle. The sound of metals clashing was causing to make the situation all too real.

The castle was being invaded.

“Lissa!” Chrom bolted, his attention averting all around when he caught sight of his sister with Sumia, safely away from all the fighting. “Thank Naga…”

“Milord!” The three turned to have Frederick’s horse stop beside, the great knight armed and clearly having his fair share of the combat. “Frederick where’s my sister?!”

“Guarded in her room! But we must hurry, the others will need our help to stop these menacing fools from laying a finger upon the Lady Emmeryn.” Frederick declared as Chrom nodded. “Then let’s go!”

It was a mad dash from one side of the castle to the furthermost depths of the castle, passing by several rooms with maids screaming alike and soldiers fighting for their lives. Whenever they got the chance they killed all that crossed their paths. However, the numbers never seemed to cease as they finally made way to the hallway to which Emmeryn resided. Chrom bolted down the hallway, slamming his fist on the door and panted.

“Sister!”

“Chrom! Take Lissa and flee while you still have time!” Emmeryn’s voice echoed from inside, causing Chrom to sigh in relief but he frowned, shaking his head.

“No! We’re not leaving you! Just stay where it’s safe!” Chrom insisted. He sighed, rubbing his face and turned, finding more of the Shepherds were gathering in the halls, fending off approaching assassins heading their way. Marth and Soren brandished out their weapons readily with Frederick keeping a stern glance to the side.

“The assassins should scatter if we can defeat their leader.” Soren acknowledged with Marth nodding in agreement. “I can help you find him.” Marth offered and Soren nodded in agreeance. Chrom however shook his head.

“No, I’d rather you stay here—where I can keep an eye on you and where you can keep my sister safe.” Chrom argued. Marth’s lips pressed together but relented to his order. Chrom nodded, turning to look at Soren now.

“Soren, take those who you need with you, but everyone else stay here and fight off the assassins!”

“Right,” Soren nodded and looked down the hallway to who he could see. A small team was all that he needed. Clearly a good choice in the matter was Sully and Stahl— Soren’s train of thoughts was thrown off as a beast tore through the doorway, slashing across several assassins and snarling towards the others that dared approach. It was a large beast, taking shape of a large rabbit, yet with claws that were easily able to tear down walls and red, beaming eyes. Soren’s eyes widen in disbelief as did Chrom’s. Frederick however, was ready to fight and kill the beast before it could even approach.

“Hold! Panne is not your enemy!” Marth interrupted anyone’s actions, earning a disbelief grunt from Frederick.

“You know her?” Chrom questioned, raising a brow.

“I know of her. And I knew she would come here tonight. She’s fighting along your side.” Marth explained. Chrom’s lips quirked as he raised a brow. “Quite the prophet, aren’t you?”

Soren blinked hesitantly, now almost afraid to even head in that direction. Considering Panne seemed to be preoccupied with killing off the assassins, it was only hopes the Shepherds would hear Chrom’s command not to attack the ferocious bunny. Soren sighed and hurried down the hallway, shouting out for Sully, Virion, Stahl, and Miriel to join him. Sully and Stahl called back and Miriel was quick to join Soren’s side, but Virion seemed to struggle getting away from his assailants’ path. A swordsman was quick to slash at Virion, slashing his bow in half causing the nobleman to gasp loudly.

“Virion!” Soren called out, bolting to his direction. Virion brandished out a dagger in defense, gritting his teeth as the assassin charged—when another assassin stabbed him from the side. Virion lowered his dagger, exhaling heavily as Soren and Sully were the first to join over to him. Sully exhaled in annoyance, swinging her lance out. Yet the thief jumped back, waving his hands.

“Whoa, easy there. I’m not here to hurt anyone.” The man exclaimed. However Sully raised a brow. “Yet you run with a band of no good murderers?” She demanded.

“Believe it or not, just trying to make a living. I’m a thief, see? Bust open doors, crack into chests….that kind of thing. But murder? I didn’t sign up for that. I’m planning on sitting this one out.” He explained. Soren blinked in surprise by his….honorable disposition. Soren rested his arms against his chest however, raising a brow.

“Then perhaps you’d be willing to prove your good intentions? We could use all your information about the enemy now.” Soren questioned with the man smirking in response, his toothpick raising up.

“Fine then, I’ll prove my sincerity…if you sweeten the deal.” He insisted.

“Ugh…” Soren’s expression dropped, already recalling he was a mercenary for hire. He may have honor but he still was a thief nonetheless. Soren grumbled, reaching into his pockets when he had pulled the bag of sweets Lissa had offered him earlier.

“Ooooooh~ What’s in the bag?” The man leaned forward as Soren rolled his eyes.

“Nothing, just candies—” The man halted, staring strangely at Soren, almost seeming drooling at the comment. “Candies? As in sugar candies?” The stranger questioned hastily.

“Um, yeah I’m pretty sure—”

“IT’S A DEAL!” The thief shook Soren’s hand quickly, snatching the bag from his other hand. “Names Gaius!” Soren blinked a few times, trying to deduce what had just happened with Sully’s expression dropping at the thief who was popping a piece of candy into his mouth at the very moment.

“You’ll risk your life for us for a damn bag of candy?” Sully demanded as Gaius turned his attention over to her, nibbling on a piece of chocolate. “I said ‘sweeten the deal,’ didn’t I? I mean, I’ll take the gold too—unless you have more of this.” His attention was back on Soren’s as the male felt an urge to not let Lissa know he was going to need more candy. Or so all the candy she possible owned.

“I can ask after this. All right, whatever, Gaius, can you tell us who the leader of these assassins is?” Soren demanded. Gaius wrapped the chocolate bar back, tossing it into his stash of candies. “Yeah, come on, lookie over here.”

Gaius gestured over his shoulder towards the railing. Soren was quick to look, finding out towards the back of the castle, finding several assassins rushing inside, a man remaining however. He had an outfit that was similar to the other Plegian mages but it was clear he was higher ranked. His dark robes cloaked and swept along the ground he walked. Soren’s eyes narrowed however, catching sight of the runes that were designed into his robes. The eyes. The same eyes that lingered upon the back of his hand.

“That’s him?” Sully questioned.

“Yup, that’s him all right. Mean, nasty guy. Careful going up against him.” Gaius warned. With that he started to head considerably back to his back of candy catching Sully’s wrath.

“And where do you think you’re going?!” Sully grabbed Gaius’s hood, nearly hurling the thief up as he struggled from her grip. “Oh no! You’re coming with us!”

“Yeesh! I didn’t say I was going to leave you guys to fight him!” Gaius’s brow twitched with his toothpick slumping downwards. “Honestly, can you trust a guy for a minute?”

“We just hired you, I think Sully is right to keep an eye on you.” Soren bemused, Gaius’s expression dropping before Soren focused his attention upon the emerald knight. “Stahl, let’s go. Sully, keep an eye on Gaius. Miriel, can you look after Virion?”

“Affirmative, perhaps he can enlighten his enemies upon his hand readings.”

At the sound of hand reading, Virion’s face paled, coughing into his face as he rummaged through the fallen body of an archer. “A-Ah ha, none of that dear Miriel. Or else I can already predict I’ll have swords impaled in my chest.”

Rather than to even bother questioning about the subject, Soren shook his head and hurried down the hall with Stahl easily moving ahead on his horse. It took a few minutes to head down the foyers to the next lower level to get an overview of the west side courtyard. Looking over, it was quite strange to realize it was only him outside, quickly conversing with an assassin that merely nodded his head forward and sprinted into the castle. It was clear he was experience in combat, considering the several Ylisse soldiers that seemed to have crossed his path were now laying amongst the bloodstained gravel. Soren knelt down, quickly formulating a plan to apprehend the man.

Soren frowned, considering his magic wasn’t as potent as he’d like it, but his swords skill has greatly improved underneath the tutorship of Frederick. Stahl had the advantage of circling him in the courtyard to distract him and with his usage of both a sword and lance, perhaps he’ll have the better chance of finishing him off. Soren nodded, stepping away from the wall and quietly indulging Stahl in his plan.

“Right, sounds good.” Stahl agreed. Soren nodded, briefly looking over the wall once more—wait. The man was looking right in their direction. Soren’s eyes widen, recalling _something._

_“Soren! Run! Run and don’t look back!”_

_“B-but E—”_

_“Go now! They’re coming! I’m not going to make it—”_

“Soren!” Stahl’s shout caused the tactician to snap his attention around when he suddenly felt the ground crack beneath him. Looking immediately, he could see the faint glow of a seal activating before the ground shattered underneath him. He dropped below, collapsing upon the crumbled floor he stood moments ago only to hurriedly roll off, another level of rubble dropping on the spot. Soren coughed hoarsely, feeling blood trickle down his forehead and cheek. His head throbbed from a monstrous migraine that was beginning to form. He picked himself from the ground, tugging his hood over his head and turned to face the sorcerer; witnessing a malicious smile drawing upon his face.

“Oh, if this isn’t a grand surprise?” The man spoke cockily, chuckling while Soren grabbed his sword and pointed at him. However the man could only laugh boldly, smirking at the sight. “Look at what we have here….a boy who thinks he’s a man. To think—this is where you been hiding.”

“What are you speaking of!” Soren demanded.

The man only continued to chuckle causing Soren to lose his patience, charging instead to lead the first strike. The sorcerer was quick to teleport out of the slash, Soren whirling around to find him behind him and his hand extended out, a crimson seal formed below the sorcerer’s feet. Fire spiraled from his spell, Soren barely leaping out of the way to avoid the flames. The man didn’t pause as the spells came in rapid succession, Soren unable to avoid all the attacks and was beginning to be pushed to the wall of the castle. Soren panted heavily, using a pillar as a point of defense as he fumbled for his thunder tome, hearing the sorcerer’s cackle in the back.

“I know you boy….” The sorcerer began, “But Emmeryn was supposed to be an easy target…you will pay for interfering in my designs!”

Intense heat exploded from behind Soren, forcing him to duck forward, feeling his armor scorching from the relentless spells. Soren exhaled hastily, his mind beginning to constrict upon the sorcerer’s words. No—it was not the time to focus on such drabble. Soren gritted his teeth, hastily getting up and running down the passageway, another barrage of spells darting after him. Soren ran out into the open space, hurling the thunder spell at the sorcerer’s feet and threw the next above. The sorcerer easily dodged, smirking at the attempt.

“Is that really all you have to offer?” The man taunted.

“No, not really.” Soren smirked when the sorcerer’s eyes narrowed before hearing the stone crack from above him. The gargoyles fell upon the sorcerer causing Soren to wince at the sight, turning his head briefly away. However, he looked quickly back seeing he was no longer crushed underneath and hastily turned, finding him across the courtyard, panting heavily. His robes had tattered and cut, blood seeping from his chest. He gritted his teeth aggressively and pulled another tome.

“No, this is all wrong….how could…you have known the plan…” The man panted as Soren held his stance, forming a thunder spell to finish him off.

_“Soren, please go, he’s going to kill you!”_

Soren’s body froze as the sorcerer activated his seal, a dangerous smirk playing along his lips. No, no wait—he remembered—something was familiar about this man. This man was in his life at one, ready to use him; to kill him.

“Now die—” The seal underneath the sorcerer vanished as a lance lodged itself into the throat of the sorcerer, blood spilling upon the body. The sorcerer’s knees dropped before his body slumped forward, Stahl panting heavily as he released his severed lance and tugged his horse’s reins. Soren stood shaken, his attention still upon the now dead man. His ears ringed as his throat seemed to tighten, his thoughts beginning to scatter. This man—knew him. He—was he once a part of the enemy forces?

“Soren?” Stahl roughly shook his shoulder, snapping Soren from his hypnotic daze. The tactician groaned, rubbing his forehead and grimaced from the sticky presence that dripped upon his free finger tips. However, his eyes darted to the side finding several assassins exiting into the courtyard causing Soren to clench his teeth, wiping his hand out.

“Your contractor is dead! Unless you want to meet the same fate, I suggest you leave now!” Soren barked. At the sound, many men scattered, clutching ripped armor and bleeding sides, many merely running for the sake of their life. Soren exhaled heavily, his strong stance now slacking as he gripped his head, the combination of the migraine and damage to his head dealing a heavy blow to his strength.

“That’s a nasty wound, hold on, I have something for that in my bag.” Stahl moved easily to his horse, reaching for the bag he had on his saddle and pulled a glass vial, returning back with it and a cloth before pouring the contents into the cloth, offering it to Soren. “It’s going to sting but it’ll clean off the cut before it gets infected.” Stahl explained as Soren carefully too it. He sighed, wincing greatly once he placed it on his forehead. It burned upon his skin but he simply pushed to endure the pain, continuing to clean the wound himself. Stahl however didn’t seem ready to move yet, his lips quirking downward.

“Soren….are you okay?” Stahl asked.

 “I….I don’t know…” Soren admitted quietly, rubbing his cheek with the cloth. Stahl grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.

“If you want to talk about it later—I’m all ears. For now though, my lips are sealed.” Stahl offered.

Trust. That was something he needed at the moment to keep his thoughts in check. They were already threatening to indulge in a mindless sense of questions that he knew he’d never get answered—not unless he were to risk his sanity at this rate. Soren exhaled gently, managing to finish wiping a good majority of the blood from his face and turned to face the green knight.

“Thank you Stahl, though, let’s hurry back. We need to see how the others are faring.”

“Right.”

**********************************

Thankfully, with the help of the new arrivals of Gaius and the strange, beast woman known as Panne, they were able to fight back the assassination attempt. When Soren and Stahl returned back, Sully nearly knocked all the air out of the poor man, proudly complementing him on a job well done on taking out the head honcho as she put it. Even Frederick credited on a task well done, causing Stahl only to grow flustered at the amount of attention he was receiving. Soren was happy that he was getting the attention rather than himself. Now sitting amongst the hallway filled with many other injured soldiers, his head was currently being treated by a chiding Maribelle. He learned he earned first warning from her for getting such a grievous wound and not hurrying to seek medical attention. Soren however still was grateful for the treatment, her skilled magic stitching away the wound. After the long lecture, Soren was eventually let go.

The tactician walked down the hallway, glancing to the soldiers that were eagerly waiting for medical attention, others recalling the intense battles. Yet his eyes darted to the few bodies that were being covered in sheets, still and cold. He exhaled faintly, grimacing at the idea that those could’ve been his friends. He turned away, surprised to find Emmeryn walking through the hallway, greeting and chatting with some of the soldiers. Clearly they were extremely flustered to be graced with her appearance. Soren smiled at the gesture, unintentionally brushing his forehead, feeling the slight scar that remained. He knew he should speak to Chrom about this later but perhaps until he drew a better conclusion, he’d keep this hidden.

Besides, Chrom was already busy sprinting down the hall in order to catch Marth who, once again, mysteriously vanished. Especially after all that has happened as well, there was a need for recuperation at the moment.

“Soren, it’s good to see you’re doing well.” Turning around, the tactician was surprised to find the Exalt there, smiling warmly, with Phila standing guard a few steps beside. Soren opened his mouth, his throat tightening momentarily on what to even say to her. He ended up choosing to nod his head forward.

“Yes, thank you for your concern. I think it’s more of a relief to see you’re doing well, your Grace.” Soren said. Emmeryn smiled, nodding her head forward and momentarily looked to Phila.

“Phila, may you please give Soren and I a minute privately. It’ll only be a moment.” Emmeryn requested causing Soren and Phila to both raise a brow at the odd request. The Pegasus Captain nodded, momentarily separating herself from the duo leaving them alone…or as alone as they would get in the hall.

“I wanted to thank you personally for your efforts tonight, Soren.” Emmeryn began causing the tactician to glance over, smiling lightly.

“It was the least I could do, considering how drastic the circumstances had gotten.”

“Still, thanks to you, I’m still here and the lives of many of my people. It seems Chrom had made an excellent choice in making you his tactician.” Emmeryn expressed.

Soren’s lips quirked momentarily at the sound and he sighed softly, nodding. Hopefully Chrom didn’t make the wrong choice in believing him.

“He speaks of you often along with Lissa you know, it brings me relief to hear they have such a close friend as you. Even Frederick seems relaxed to the idea of you being the tactician.” Soren flushed at the idea of being so heavily talked about. The thought never came to mind that he was genuinely well-liked, growing alongside the other growing group of Shepherds.

 “Soren, can you promise me something?” Those words caught Soren off guard. He raised a brow, nodding hastily. “Promise me that you’ll always look after Chrom and Lissa for me. He needs someone like you to keep his thoughts in line.” Emmeryn chuckled softly, “He’s very emotional, even if he doesn’t like to show it.”

“Your Grace—I promise you, we’ll win this war. You have my word you’ll be able to continue living a fair life,” Soren vowed, earning a gracious smile from the Exalt.

“Noble indeed. I ask only as not only the Exalt, but as a friend. Please, protect my family in my stead, they’re all I have left in this world.” Soren winced at the comment and frowned at the tone she held. It was suggesting she knew something worse was going to befall on her fate. 

“You have my solemn word.” Soren bowed his head as Emmeryn smiled. “Chrom was right to believe in you. I can see why he holds you so highly and that makes me that much happier to see what you can do.”

Soren blushed at the compliment, rubbing the back of his neck, beginning to feel the scorching mark glowing against his hand. Phila returned shortly, Panne joining her as Emmeryn looked briefly, returning to face Soren.

“Excuse me though, I’d like to give my thanks to the brave taguel who came to our aid this evening.”

“Taguel?” Soren repeated.

“A proud race of shapeshifters.” Emmeryn answered, smiling warmly to the tactician and headed down the hall where Phila awaited. Soren remained, his hands curling into fists. He relaxed and unfurled his hands, opening them to stare intently upon his palms. All this trust was being weighed upon him now, was he going to be strong enough to hold up to it?

_......_

_......_

_......._

_Ha…ha…ha._


	11. Dust or Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey again, another busy week but here's the next chapter up! Thank you once again for those that keep reading this, I love to hear feedback and comments on how I can improve but regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> -w- Shit's going down soon enough. My heart's gonna break. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

_ Uncertainty is the worst of all evils until the moment when reality makes us regret uncertainty  _

_It’s been a week since the Shepherds marched to Regna Ferox. The adversity and tension between Ylisse and Plegia had exploded a week prior of their journey in the crossroads to Regna Ferox. Another fellow Shepherd; Cordelia, a Pegasus Knight brought grim news. The western borders had fallen; leaving a distraught Exalt to return to the capital, fearing her citizens needed her more than ever. She left behind an agitated brother and worried sister behind—only wishing for their safe return, knowing they would come back with reinforcements._

_Could Emmeryn ever imagine all the chaos that would follow?_

_Spies had returned back, relaying the news upon Chrom and the Khans on how villages were being scorched to the ground. Villagers were fleeing for their life, attempting to outrun the Plegian forces as they forced their way through the halidom. Ylissean soldiers fought valiantly, that much was true, but the Plegian forces were stronger, overbearing the Ylissean forces. It was only a matter of time when they would reach the capital._

_What was worse—Chrom was trying to keep his own patience. His sister’s words didn’t fall upon deaf ears. I knew better though, the way Chrom viewed at the Khan’s war council as they argued the night prior, how they tore at the idea to send more troops into a death battle. I saw the way Chrom’s jawline tightened, the way his eyes flared with disbelief and how his muscles tensed on his right arm. Soren grew uncomfortable as the insults were hurled across the table, obviously the Plegian’s taking the blunt of the blows but many were thrown to Chrom’s attitude towards his aggressive push for the assistance. If it wasn’t for Flavia who had to end the arguments by spearing the table; who knows if Ylisstol would have the troops it desperately needs._

_It’s becoming clear though—the mere idea of Plegians is getting a bad reputation. I never thought much about a past that seemed like it wouldn’t have mattered. It was my only defense against worrying over it. Now it seems like I will have to. My past may haunt the one chance I have at having a future, a future in which I can create._

_Chrom, the kindness that you’ve shown me—I’m not sure I deserve that anymore. I don’t know why you trusted me so easily, yet I’ve seen it first hand over and over again even when it became a risk to your own safety. Now I worry that I’ll become a safety hazard against the Shepherds, the closest thing I have to a home. I joined the Shepherds because I didn’t have much to go on—I didn’t have a purpose to what I could do with my life. You gave me that chance. To explore and grow—but I feel like I’ve only grown to do as I been commanded—ugh, I can’t show this to him!_

Soren tore the page, crumbling into a ball and tossed it to the side, hearing the ball bouncing off the growing pile of parchment to the floor. His fingers drummed hastily against the table, his index finger rubbing his temple. The quill feather was beginning to feel heavy in his hand, trying to find the right words he wanted to express. The words that were lodged in his subconscious that he didn’t want to admit to. He didn’t want to believe it. Yet why was the growing evidence seemed so strong against him?

Books piled along the desk, the floors, some were opened while others had still yet to be touched. He pulled not only strategies for himself but he needed to learn about the Plegian culture and history. What they worshipped, how they dressed, what they looked like. To give him a hint—to give him a clear idea on who he could have been once in a past life. Searching in the furthermost corner of the library, walls upon walls of books giving him cover from the others led him to research in peace. Peace for his mind though, it was far from it.

Soren dragged his palms down his face, eyes flickering wearily as he patted his fingers against his cheek bones. He pressed his back against the frame of the chair, exhaling coolly to watch his breathe float visibly above, rising towards the ice sleeked corner of the stone room. His lips quirked downwards, glancing down to the book he had opened, something riddling with a group of fanatic worshippers of the Fell Dragon. The Feroxi did not seem to have enough information upon the details of the rituals but it’s been cited that sacrifices had been every so often to the fell dragon, in an attempt to resurrect the dragon.

This wasn’t exactly the information Soren was hoping to find, it only further made his stomach turn and twist about who he could’ve been. He laced his fingers together, pressing only his index fingers against the crook of his nose and inhaled slowly.

_“I know you boy…”_

“How do you know me…?” Soren whispered.

The room remained mostly quiet, the windows clicking from the gale of snow that was blowing wildly outside. A knock echoed from the other side of the darkened library, Soren turning in his seat to find no one had entered, merely continuing to knock on the other side. He pressed his lips together, straightening his posture in the chair. The knock continued again before a voice finally echoed from the other side of the sealed door.

“Soren, are you in here?” It was Chrom, again.

It was the third time the prince had come to check on him since he locked himself in here. Soren slouched back into his chair, tearing his attention away from the door to focus back upon the book. Ever since what happened back in the castle, Soren had decided to put a distance from himself and the young prince, only coming together when the group had been ambushed by Risen. His strategy that he pulled at the last second was efficient in cutting the enemy down before it turned messy. The minute it was over, Soren was quick to disappear into the background, even to the point where Kellam couldn’t locate him.  

“Soren…if there’s something we need to discuss, don’t hesitate to speak to me. Know tomorrow or so Flavia is going to be returning, and I’d like you to be there.” Chrom expressed.

Soren tucked the book up, immersing himself once again in his studies. Time would slowly past before Chrom finally left the door, the sound of his footsteps drifting away into the hall. His mood dropped the minute he walked away and Soren sighed, holding his head between his index and thumb. He had been up nearly the entire evening, sweeping away his time within all the notes and brushing up on his own skills. It wasn’t a surprise that he was getting a headache from all of this.

Hours drawled by again when a brief knock caught Soren's attention. Unlike Chrom’s harsh knock, this came at a quicker pace, something Soren was beginning to notice Gaius was used to. "Come in." Casually sauntering in was Gaius, sucking upon a red lollipop. Soren closed his books, momentarily rubbing his eyes before he walked to the other side of the library to greet the thief.

"Sup, Bubbles." Gaius greeted causing Soren's lips to quirk. He still was having a strange time understanding Gaius's nicknames. It already earned him a predictable resentment from Panne, who joined the Shepherds on behalf of Emmeryn’s kindness and her ward. Pressing his fingers together against his back, he stretched and groaned, earning a lazy, arched brow from the thief. “I’m going to take it that you’ve been studying this whole day?”

“More or less, yes.” Soren responded, groaning lightly from how locked his shoulders felt. As much as he wanted to continue stretching, he didn’t want to waste Gaius’s time any longer. He rested a palm against his side, the other gesturing to the thief.

“Did you get the information I requested?” Soren asked.

"Yeah I did,” Gaius grinned, momentarily popping his lollipop out and twirled it in the air, “And as you promised??" Soren pulled the chocolate laced nougat that he had purchased from the town prior. Gaius's mouth watered at the sight causing Soren to stare blankly, still taking into account how easy it was to bribe him to work over sweets. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—it just questioned how far he could push it. Perhaps for the remainder of the war.

 "Information, please." Soren pressed before Gaius could fully reach for the sweet. He smirked, resting his bag amongst the ground and crossed his arms.

"Well, it's like you suspected. Plegia is inching closer and closer to Ylisse. People are scrambling to get out of there while they can. The others have been saving refugees while they can. Blue is getting worried about the Exalt with each passing day and Princess looks like she’s gonna cry. Though I think Sully is starting to get suspicious of me doin something. Since you know, I am watching everyone for your sakes.” Gaius explained. Soren frowned at the unfolding predicament

"I'm sorry Gaius if that’s the case, but I appreciate your help.  I really needed the time to collect my thoughts and try to organize a counter attack on the Plegian army." Soren informed while Gaius waved his lollipop, casually popping it back into his mouth.

"Hey, say no more. As long as I'm not getting killed then we're fine. And, of course, the sugar keeps rolling in." Gaius remarked causing Soren to roll his eyes.

"Right....anything else?" Soren questioned. Gaius hummed, drumming his fingers against his chin and nodded.

“Yeah, there’s word that the army isn’t doing too hot in Ylisse. The Plegian army is at least a day’s march to the capital. I’m not sure if those Pegasus knights are going to be able to hold their ground against him for another five days before we can even think about reaching them. But from what Blue and Sir Stiff had been talkin about, the Feroxi are finally agreeing with the Khans request to help in the war.”

That was probably the one good note from his report. Soren frowned, rubbing his temple circularly. At this rate, it could only be a matter of time before the Feroxi are armed to the teeth and marching to Plegia. Will it be enough time though to make it back to Ylisse though?

He suspected the worst at this point.

“Hey, Bubbles, you okay?” Gaius questioned, “You’re lookin a little pale.”

“Oh, um, yes, thank you Gaius again, that’s all I needed. I need to head back to work promptly then. Here.” Soren offered the thief the sweet, something that stole away the suspicious glance to more of a baited temptation of the sweet. Soren smiled, reassuring the thief that he’d meet him in the mess hall later for some dinner along with Stahl and Panne. It took more than a few minutes for the thief to leave though, noticing he was lingering around in the front of the library whist Soren merely choice to return back to his studies, casting a simple flame to provide light for his work. When he finally heard the sound of the door closing and glancing briefly over, he began to pour himself into the texts once again.

Soren hadn’t returned to study about the Plegians, instead, determined to study to improve his tactic skills. The Feroxi held many rare text that Soren could only imagine was because the kingdom itself was very old. They contained great strategies from the ages of yore that Soren carefully wrote into his journal, adding his additional suggestions on how to configure the strategies to the army at hand. It still was this need…this need to be great at the work he does. That was the only thing Soren knew that kept him going. He wanted to be the best tactician he could be. To keep those that trusted him alive.

To be…the best…

**********************************

_"R—en—"_

_"Mmm...."_

_"Get up!" The smack that landed on the back of his head sent him hurling up from the patch of grass, his face consorted in pain and weariness from sleep._

_"Mm—what—?" Soren’s voice surprised himself, it sounded….younger….._

_"Get up!" The woman’s voice, it sounded like the one from the battle with the sorcerer._

_The smell of smoke burned in his nasals causing him to cough roughly, clutching his throat. Fire—where was the fire coming from. The sound of metal clashing and the roar of a hundred men echoed when his arm was gripped, hauling him from the ground. He looked to the woman that carried him up, finding the robes she wore were identical to his own. Her face was casted in shadows, the hood drawn over as she roughly tugged his over to follow._

_"Run!"_

_The voice was older, feminine but he couldn't catch her face from the angle. He nearly tripped over his robes, hustling to keep up as they drew away from the burning field. A village was caught in a crossfire, civilians fleeing while soldiers clad in light armor, masks concealing their faces clashed against bandits, looking eerily familiar to Plegian soldiers. Soren tore through the village caught in the inferno, cutting through burning shops and leaping over abandoned food carts selling satays. The woman’s grip never faltered when they reached the end of the village, her body twisting right and left on which path to take._

_Soren was more confused on what was happening—where was he, who was this woman, why were the Plegians attacking this village?_

_“Not so fast!”_

_A cackle rang from behind causing Soren to whirl around, finding Plegian mages at their rear, assorted tomes that ranged from fire, thunder, and nosferatu. Soren reached into the inside of his coat, patting along the inner folds to find his tomes were missing. ‘What? Where were they?!’ His eyes widen in alarm while the woman beside him had pulled a tome of her own, flipping it open as she began an incantation._

_“Arcfire!” The flames lashed out viciously, a mage getting consumed within the spell. His screams echoed as his comrades that escaped set there sight upon the woman beside Soren._

_“You’ll pay for that!” One declared, a dark seal forming underneath his feet, “Nosferatu!”_

_“Watch it!” Soren shoved the woman out of the way, the dark spell exploding between the two with Soren stumbling backwards. The woman landed steadily on her feet however, casting another whirl of flames at another mage. Not standing at the idea of merely watching, the tactician tore at a broken piece of plank, gripping it tightly as the remaining two mages laughed._

_“What is this jest? Does he surely believe he can—” The mage howled out in pain when the plank smacked into his face. Soren didn’t waste time in knocking the tome out of his hands, quickly scavenging it from the ground and knocked open the book._

_“Thunder!” Soren knocked the two mages away with the burst of thunder, panting slightly as the woman joined by his side, another tome gripped in her hand._

_“Arcthunder!” Now the two mages were left beaten along the ground as Soren relaxed, surprised by how out of breathe he felt at the moment. Perhaps all the running had tired him._

_“Are you okay?” The woman pressed, brushing his forehead and checked along his shoulders for injuries elsewhere._

_"Ye-yeah,” Soren answered, blinking hastily and flushed as the woman straightened her posture once more. He needed to know who she was._

_“Good, we must hurry though—”_

“Soren?”

_“Hmm?” Soren felt the entire atmosphere change, the wisps of flames cooling against his neck and the air stilling. What was—_

**********************************

“Soren?”

“ARGH!” Soren’s head knocked against the wooden table, nearly stumbling over in his seat, gripping onto the desk as several books fell in his place. Soren panted lightly, blinking rapidly to make sure what was in front of him was actually real. It was another vivid dream, it just was another dream. Soren shook his head, rubbing his forehead gently when he realized he wasn’t alone at the moment.

“Ahh….sorry?” Soren turned in his seat, surprised to find the green clad knight holding a plate of sliced meats and biscuits, looking rather alarmed over the predicament. Soren flushed, pressing his hands against the desk and fixed his coat, pushing his bangs back before actually facing Stahl.

“Err, hello Stahl…” Soren greeted awkwardly, averting his attention to the plate of food, “I’m assuming it’s time for dinner….isn’t it?”

“Actually, it’s time for breakfast.” Stahl corrected, setting the plate on the desk. Soren swallowed, rubbing his wrist gently. He didn’t realize he slept for the entire night. It didn’t even feel like it at the rate of how the dream was going. Soren eyes darted to the plate of meat, the temptation to eat beginning to grow the longer the smell of seared ham began to intoxicate the air. Soren decided to cast away his ravenous gaze to out the window, finding the storm that had ravaged the night prior was cleared, leaving a fresh pile of snow in the courtyard of Regna Ferox.

“I didn’t realize it was morning…” Soren admitted sheepishly, “I suppose time caught the better of me.”

“Gaius got worried you didn’t show up for dinner,” Stahl explained when Soren took to his seat, digging with the fork into a slice of meat. He bit into the slice, tearing at it hungrily as Stahl picked up some of the scattered books from the ground.

“Soren, why are you working yourself so hard in here?” Stahl expressed causing Soren to sigh slightly, munching onto another slice of meat, preoccupying his mouth.  “And these books?”

“I’m trying to add to my arsenal, I need to keep making myself useful for the Shepherds.” Soren explained, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Soren, it’s not about that. Is it?” Stahl asked. Soren looked at the knight as he settled the books down on the desk. Stahl catching sight of his gaze continued, “you know I’ve had a knack of reading people’s expressions. It’s about…what happened with the sorcerer, isn’t it?”

The shiver that ran up his spine was almost unnatural, the image of the sorcerer cackling ran through his mind once more. Soren resisted all the urge to visibly look disturbed at the suggestion, munching on another piece of ham aggressively, tearing at a piece of biscuit to stuff at his mouth. Stahl stared at Soren bemused before quirking his lips, resting a palm on his hip.

“See, you’re doing it!” Stahl insisted.

“Whaw?” Soren munched sobbily causing Stahl to lean forward, resting a hand on the table. “Your nose!”  

“My…nose?” Soren swallowed, raising a brow, rubbing his nose offhandedly.

“It’s twitching, when you get nervous, agitated, your nose twitches. Not like Panne since she’s a taguel, but see!” Stahl exclaimed. Soren hadn’t even noticed himself doing that as he grew self-conscious, brushing his nose to feel the slight twitch. By the Gods, that’s how Stahl caught him. Soren blinked wildly, his shoulders slumping as he sighed heavily in defeat. No reason to keep running from it now.

“Yes, I’m bothered. The sorcerer claimed to have known me, a man that invaded the castle with an intent on assassinating Lady Emmeryn. It doesn’t leave a good feeling on my shoulders.” Soren expressed sourly.

“Soren, you know it’s okay, no one has lost faith in you yet either, nor do I think anyone would really care if you were a Plegian or not. If that’s something you’re worried about.” That struck a nerve as Soren’s shoulders tensed, his fingers drumming hastily against the leather covering of a book. Now he was mentally aware that his nose twitched and he frowned, looking to the side. Stahl really did have an incredible talent for being able to read the emotions on someone’s face. Though most would have agreed Stahl was rather ordinary, it was a special talent that he was able to claim as his own.

“Would they not worry? Frederick had worried about it for the first two months since I had joined the Shepherds, I think this is the first month I’ve noticed he hasn’t stalked around my tent or watch over my meetings with Chrom.” Soren noted with Stahl frowning lightly at the comment.

“Sir Frederick is always on edge. Due to Chrom’s nature at helping everyone, Frederick himself has to exert himself to make sure that these people don’t end up pulling a dagger to his back.” Stahl explained on the knight’s behalf. Soren sighed gently, rubbing his cheek as he could feel it begin to burn. He was beginning to feel like a fool at the moment, having wasted all the hours he had the day prior on the silly assumption that perhaps his heritage was something he had to worry about.

“Gods, this is embarrassing. I’m working myself over nothing.” Soren admitted lamely with Stahl rested a hand on his shoulder, now taking a sit amongst the stack of books Soren had collected on the ground.

“Well, it’s not nothing. You don’t know whatever he meant. And I know being in charge of an entire militia takes time away from finding out about who you are. So, it’s not to say we’re suspicious, I think we’re more worried about your own sake.” Stahl insisted. Soren frowned, nodding and straightened himself upon his chair.

“It’s why I’m looking. When I get the chance, when I’m not reading to become a better tactician, I’ve been trying to find out—who was I before Lissa tripped over me in Ylisse? Did I always possess this knowledge of tactics? Was I always that bad at cooking?” Stahl’s face seemed to sour at the last comment, most likely recalling the week prior when Soren was assigned to cooking with Stahl and Sully. He swears on Naga herself that meal was not supposed to be bubbling and oozing as it did.

“Err…it wasn’t as bad as what Sully herself had made…that’s for sure. I was able to hold your food down better than hers.” Stahl tried to uplift his mood.

“Thanks, I guess.” Soren chuckled causing the knight to join in. After a few moments of laughter, Stahl coughed into his fist. Soren smiled lightly, feeling his cheeks had tightened from holding the stern expression for the past two weeks. It was good to laugh, and it was reassuring he had someone such as Stahl to speak with.

“Now, I was asked to tell you that Chrom is going to be waiting in the hall for the Khan. He was hoping you’d show.” Stahl decided to inform as Soren’s eyes widen, almost having forgotten that he was to join the prince. Soren nodding, quickly wiping his mouth once more and grabbed several books. “Thank you Stahl, I should go speak to Chrom then so if you’ll excuse me!”

Stahl laughed lightly, “See you later Soren!”

**********************************

“B-but she’ll be safe inside the castle, right? Phila and the other will protect her! And Khan Flavia is assembling her best troops as we speak.” Soren hasted into the open room, finding Lissa and Sumia by Chrom. “We’ll make it back in time! I know we will!” Lissa insisted as her brother seemed unresponsive to her calls. Soren panted lightly, hoping he wasn’t too late. He hurried over, catching Lissa’s delighted attention.

“A-Ah! Soren! Thank Naga you’re here!” Lissa exclaimed, clasping Soren’s arm as he grew closer to the trio. Lissa nearly dragged him the rest of the way before gesturing towards her brother. “Soren! He’s been like this all day! He hasn’t said anything! Like, “Yes, of course we will!” he’s just been spacing out!” Lissa exclaimed as Soren turned his attention to her, scratching his neck.

“I’m not sure if I can help with that—” but looking at Lissa’s desperate expression, his heart sank at the sight. He turned to Chrom, finding his gaze was casted towards the ground, his eyes glazed and shadowed in uncertainty. “Chrom!” Soren snapped. Miraculously, Chrom snapped his head to the side, exhaling heavily before his sights landed on Lissa and Soren.

“Oh, Soren, you’re here. Um, Lissa, what were you saying?” Chrom regarded, looking between the two dartingly. Lissa groaned, shaking her head and shook her fists at her side.

“Fine! Never mind! Let me know when you get out of your own head for a second!” Lissa scowled as Chrom frowned, casting his attention away to the side for the moment before meeting Soren’s.

“Are you all right Soren…?” Chrom asked unexpectingly as Soren nodded slowly.

“Yes, I’m fine Chrom, but what about you?” Soren pressed as Chrom’s lips pressed together, a sigh escaping. When he had not receive an answer, Soren momentarily looked to Sumia for assistance, knowing the young woman had a tendency of snapping Chrom out. She fiddled with her fingers and walked forward, exhaling heavily catching Chrom’s attention.

“Captain, snap out of it!” Sumia suddenly lashed out, punching him directly in the jaw. Soren’s jaw dropped at the circumstances that had unfolded. Honestly, he never imagined Sumia to be capable of out right punching Chrom in the face. Perhaps learning from Frederick was having an effect upon Sumia--but even so! 

“OW!” Chrom gripped his jaw, noticeably tinging black and blue underneath his gloved hand, “What the hell was that for?!”

“Oh no! Did I do it wrong? Captain Phila said sometimes a good slap will break someone of their doldrums.” Sumia defended as Soren felt his lip twitch slightly. She didn’t open her hand at all, she full out punched him in the face. Lissa attempted to explain it to Sumia as she suddenly realize her mistake, paling at the idea while Chrom stretched his jaw, mouthing a painful ‘ow’ once more.

Flavia joined them, laughing at the show at hand, placing her sword upon her brown skin, grinning brightly.

“Ha ha! What’s wrong, my dear prince? Sometime loves hurt! You’re lucky to have strong women like these and not just dainty flowers about!” Flavia boosted causing Sumia to flush brightly, covering her face with her hands, muttering something about how the thought counts. Soren had to admit though, it looked like a good punch. With a gentle suggestion, Sumia was once again off to handle things with Frederick, not without tripping on her way out of course.

“In any case, I bring good news. The Feroxi army has finally mobilized, with every last man itching to fight. I must say, I’m looking forward to savoring a skirmish or two myself.” Flavia casually informed, grinning as she flicked her blade proudly. 

“Wait, you’re coming along?” Chrom questioned, rubbing his jaw profusely as Flavia grinned, leaning forward.

“Of course! A khan must have her fun. I’m even bringing my insignificant other.” Flavia remarked causing Soren to turn with a questioning, “Your who?”

“Basilio. The oaf isn’t good for much, but he might stop a few stray arrows.” Flavia remarked casually, downgrading the former reigning Khan to such a level, Soren had to wonder how their relationship was before when he still ruled. Chrom continued rubbing his jaw when Basilio sprinted in the room, his broad chest heaving greatly from the sprint.

“Chrom! Good gods, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Basilio remarked angrily that caused the four to turn to the West Khan.

“Is something wrong?” Chrom removed his palm off his jaw with Basilio gritting his teeth.

“Our scouts have reported back. Dark news, I’m afraid…” Basilio hesitated as Lissa drew by Soren’s side, her eyes widening, “Ylisstol…has fallen.”

The room silenced with Chrom’s shout of concern ringing in the air, the atmosphere growing ever tense. Soren snapped his attention to Lissa, noticing her ever increasing pale skin and her trembling body as the news continued, “The Plegians captured your exalt and retreated back across their lines. Gangrel has declared she’s to be publicly executed within the moon.”  

Soren's heart dropped at the sound of that, the color escaping quickly from his face at the horrified image that flashed in his mind. No! Gods no!

“Oooh…” Lissa fell backwards, Soren hastily catching her within his arms, kneeling down to cradle the fallen princess. It was clearly too much news for her to take in. She had passed out, her body still shaking over the news. Chrom knelt down beside Lissa, brushing her bangs back and clenched his teeth roughly.

“The dastard’s not even trying to be subtle anymore.” Flavia remarked as Soren frowned.

“I agree, it’s an obvious trap.” Soren pressed

“The Mad King knew our scouts would relay this message back. It’s clearly a provocation—a hot brand to the buttocks! We should consider our options carefully before jumping to any—”

“I don’t care!” Chrom shouted firmly, now taking a stance once more, “The Shepherds are marching to Plegia!”

“Chrom!” Soren scowled.

Basilio coughed into his fist, “Well, that would be ONE option, yes…but perhaps we’ve seen enough royalty waltzing into traps for one war already, eh?”

“I don’t care if it’s a trap, Basilio, Soren.” Chrom interjected, swinging his arm out, “He’s going to murder my sister if we don’t do something about it now!”

“Peace, Chrom! Breathe a moment.” Flavia insisted, gripping onto his shoulder from behind, “No one’s suggesting we don’t act. We’re simply saying we should act WISELY. We’ll need guts AND wits in equal measure if we’re to save your sister.”

Chrom’s body trembled, his hands curled into fists as he attempting to calm himself, Soren catching the whispered numbers escaping from his lips. Soren exhaled, finding his own thoughts were in a frenzy. The mere idea the Exalt was kidnapped had disturbed him, but the continued idea that it was not only after Soren had made the promise to keep an eye on Chrom and Lissa should anything have happened to her. Even then, she must have suspected this was going to be the outer result. He was going to keep his promise to her, he was going to make sure she’d come out of this alive in the end, to reunite with her brother and sister.

“The Khans are right, Chrom.” Soren began, catching Chrom’s gaze, “I’ll think of something, Chrom. I promise you, we’re going to bring Emmeryn back.”

“But—” Chrom hesitated on finishing the sentence, clearing Soren’s fear away into utter determination.

“You need to trust me Chrom, I haven’t failed you before, and I will not fail you now.” Soren swore as Chrom turned to face him, their eyes locking. He knew this wasn’t just a mere mission now, his sister’s life was in the balance now. As much as he willingly followed Chrom into battle, there was the trust that was instilled in him, even when they knew nothing of each other. It was that given trust that’d he lay his life on the line for justice.

“….All right, Soren. I leave it to you to formulate our strategy.” Chrom relented. Flavia however was now crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing to Soren.

“Are you certain you’re up to the task, Soren? It won’t be easy. You hold not only the Exalt’s life in one hand, but all of ours in the other as well.” Flavia questioned. Soren swallowed, nodding firmly.

“A responsibility I do not take lightly. But I am equal to the challenge.” Soren pressed. Flavia’s lips turned upwards, a laugh escaping from her lips.

“You’ve got stones, at least. I like that!” Flavia complimented as Basilio joined, “No hesitation, no mincing words…he’s either a genius or a fool! I suppose we’ll find out once we march.”

Lissa began to regain consciousness as Chrom now joined by Soren’s side, assisting his sister up from the ground as Basilio’s laugh broke through the silence.

“Hold on to your tassets, Ylisseans! We’ve an Exalt to save!”


	12. Counting Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this took a very long time to come out. I had things i had to do such as work but mostly I got distracted when my lovely girlfriend came to visit. I had no regrets and still don't, though I wish i could've done this faster. REGARDLESS! Here's the chapter! This one is nearly two chapters in one considering how long it ended up being so I hope it makes up for some of the lost time. Guys, it's happening, hell is gonna rain over for the next three chapters, AHAHAHAHAHA.....HAHA....HA -w-
> 
> I can't wait. 
> 
> Until next time! Enjoy!

_ “There are some things that can only be learn in a storm” _

_“I never imagined it was this hot in Plegia.” Lissa had remarked, her hand shielding her face, overlooking a vast sea of sand, dunes spreading wide and far._

_‘I don’t think anyone had imagined it was this hot in Plegia.’_

_The sun scorched down upon my back, my armor and clothes becoming increasingly sweltering in the heat. I could feel sweat drip from my shoulder blades and down, irritation overwhelming my mind which already was preoccupied with looking out for the enemy. More importantly, reaching Plegia in time to save Emm. The moon was to be full in the next two days and we’ve only made it halfway to the Plegian capital. The sands drifted underneath the armies feet, making trekking through the desert with an entire army that much harder. With Lissa and I leading ahead with Basilio and Flavia, it was decided between Frederick and Soren to keep an eye on the soldiers behind. With Gaius and Stahl joining close to Soren’s side, the company was desirably welcomed unlike my own attempts._

_I’ve come to realize Soren’s carefulness now a days, his worries especially lie when I go out at night to check on the other soldiers. On occasion, we’ve run into distressed villages that had or were currently being ransacked by Plegian dastards. In the end, I’ve normally end not just one word of caution from Frederick, but two from Soren. I worry he’s starting to pick up Frederick’s weariness. But then again—it only started becoming apparent after the failed assassination attempt. I wonder—does he feel somewhat responsible for that night?_

_Or is there something else going on?_

_Soren’s a mystery for sure, but it still doesn’t change the fact I trust him as equally as everyone else—perhaps even more. When we do speak casually, it’s normally filled with laughter and I don’t feel just like the Prince of the realm, I’m just an average man enjoying a night in the company of his comrades. I wonder if he understands that. Heh, maybe the next time we speak, I’ll let him know why I won’t stop going out to help people. Who knows….maybe there’s another person like him that has unlimited potential._

_**********************************_

_“_ Chrom?”

Soren peered through the flaps of the tent, catching sight of the Prince attentively writing in his logs. Soren momentarily furrowed his brows, only to recall Frederick’s suggestion of writing down his thoughts during this stressful time. It seemed to have been working, Chrom has remained the level headed leader that this army needed. Soren pushed the flap behind him, granting Chrom’s attention over to him.

“Oh, Soren! I didn’t hear you come in,” Chrom delved his journal into the crate beside his desk, turning, “What brings you here?”

“Khan Flavia and Basilio have asked for you in the War Council tent, we need to discuss our plan of actions considering we’ll be nearing the Plegian capital by the end of the day tomorrow.” Soren explained. The prince’s shoulders dropped, the once lightened mood transitioning to a sober one. With a heavy nod, he stood attentively.

“Right, let’s hurry then.” Chrom regarded.

Soren tentatively nodded, opening the flap to allow Chrom out first before following. The duo trudged past the tents while the Ylisse soldiers that trained vigorously against each. The Feroxi warriors were close by, brutally combating against one another that made the training exercises the Ylisse soldiers were doing look drastically incompetent. Soren kept a close eye, watching the aggressive movements as the axes clashed, ringing ferociously in the air.

From the corner of his eye, he had noticed Chrom was glancing over to him occasionally. It urged the tactician to focus his attention on the soldiers. Even when they were past the combatants, now moving towards the free space of desert that the Shepherds were using for training. Frederick was initiating the training amongst the Shepherds. From here, Soren noticed Lissa was panting heavily, hunching over with scratches along her wrists and hands. Soren could recall his own pain from when Frederick was personally training him. By the end of the day for two weeks, Soren was readily prepared to chop his legs off in order to provide them mercy.

Soren sighed, now his attention darting to Sully and Gaius, the thief hurling into a bucket with the knight demanding another ten laps around the campgrounds. Perhaps Soren would take what he said back. It seemed like Sully would’ve been a worse teacher than Sir Frederick. By the look of how Gaius and now Donnel who fell beside the thief, it seemed Lissa had it easier.

“Soren, how have you been? It’s been a while.” Chrom regarded, catching the tactician’s attention.

“I’ve been, well, better than before.” Soren admitted.

Chrom’s lips twisted to a questionable one, a brow arching up as Soren rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. It still felt strange to be around Chrom. Everything that Soren had learned thus far have left him on edge. No, he needed to reassure himself. He needed to listen to Stahl’s suggestion and be open with him. Chrom must’ve assumed at some point about who he was, Soren knew better than to take Chrom as a fool. Yet Chrom still treated him equally as he does everyone else.

Soren sighed, looking back to meet his gaze briefly, “Chrom, about before in Regna Ferox….”

“Think nothing of it.” Chrom smiled.

“What?” Soren stilled himself after a hasty double-take to the warrior.

“I know why you were in there Soren, it wasn’t hard to gain the information.” Chrom responded, catching the tactician off guard. It wasn’t surprising but he hadn’t actually thought Chrom would go to the lengths—

“Offering Gaius twice the amount of sweets, it was easy to get it.”

Pressing his lips together firmly, Soren’s eyes narrowed and sighed in disappointment. Note to self, Gaius was not to be trusted when it came to sweets and secrets.

“I see…” Soren responded lamely, feeling his cheeks burn.

Chrom hummed and briefly met his companion’s eyes, “If there is something that needs to be addressed, why do you caution the problem with me?” His royal, cobalt eyes directed from the side, and met Soren’s again, and stayed there, “What has bothered you Soren, to distance yourself from me?”

Soren exhaled, feeling the stare bore through his defenses, “Do you really want the truth?”

“I would appreciate it if you did,” Chrom responded.

Soren exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can you recall the man that led the failed assassination attempt?” Soren inquired, the recollected memory of the figure idly.

Chrom nodded carefully, “Yes, I do. But what does that man have to do with how you have been acting?”

Soren chewed on his words, trying to piece the mess together to form something comprehensive and clear, “During the confrontation between us, he said something that left me unsettled. Something about the past,” Swallowing roughly, his nails traced down the back of his neck. “He claimed to have known me, Chrom. To imagine that I could’ve been from Plegia—it worried me immensely.”

Chrom remained quiet, his eyes still locked with his, “Why did it worry you?”

“I—I worried I wasn’t who I imagined I was in my former life. That I could’ve been—and could be still someone who would betray the friends and allies I’ve grown to make at this point,” Soren let out a painful sigh, feeling the words knot along his chest and entangling within his heart, aching, “I didn’t want to betray the trust you had given to me.”

The air remained dense, the two men keeping the shared expression when Soren had finished. It was not embarrassing at this point for the tactician to express his concerns over himself. After conversing with Stahl on the matter, it left him with confidence in relaying the concerns to Chrom. Yet, it still was crashing down on him that Chrom had much more pressing matters to handle. Was this really the right time to bring this up?

Chrom had not expressed his thoughts, leaving Soren to tear his gaze away and down the path, catching notice of the Khans retreating into a tent, Frederick hastily following suit. They needed to hold off the conversation at the moment. It was crucial to not keep the others waiting at the moment.

“Chrom, perhaps we should talk about this later. The Khans have been waiting for us,” Soren changed the direction of the conversation, catching Chrom’s cobalt gaze once again, “This mission is a priority over anything else.”

“Soren,” A firm hand clasped upon his shoulder, tensing the tactician briefly at the unexpected gesture, especially when Chrom leaned slightly forward, “Don’t think I don’t care or that I would judge you any differently from the others.”

That caused Soren’s shoulders to drop, sighing, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

The response certainly caused Chrom to release his grip and Soren brushed the hand away from his shoulder. With no more push for the matter, Soren and Chrom trailed in silence to the war tent. Khan Flavia and Basilio hovering over a table, rolls of parchment that Soren assumed were maps. The room was littered with such items along with routes, books, everything that could’ve helped them get through Plegia as hastily as possible.

When the two drew closer, it became apparent that it seemed like Flavia and Frederick were arguing over a certain matter. Chrom frowned at the sight of his close friend growing tenser, finally deciding to step in, “Khan Flavia, Frederick, what’s troubling you both?”

“You want to know why? Our spies have detected that Emmeryn is to be executed from this location right here,” Flavia gestured towards the map, the sketches showing what the outlining of the Plegian capital seemed to look like. “And as I was explaining to Frederick, I was saying it can potentially be a strategy to send the Pegasus knights that you have in the Shepherds—?”

“To risk Sumia’s and Cordelia’s life so easily?! If Phila and her closest Pegasus’s knights were no match against Gangrel’s forces, what would make this situation any different? I won’t allow it,” Frederick chastised

“Peace Frederick, it was merely a suggestion.” Chrom relented, hoping to evert Frederick’s steel-cut gaze from Flavia. Sharper than even his lance, Soren knew that if the two were to made eye contact, Flavia’s bold personality would sharpen her own axe to combat his. Basilio sighed tiredly, circularly rubbing his temple, casually leaning forward to examine the map. 

“The man’s right though, we can’t sacrifice a knight to merely kill off the executioner.” Basilio bulked up Frederick’s defense, easing the knight’s tension, his stormy eyes softened. Soren hummed, catching the sight of Frederick’s fist slacking beside, flexing gently. Frederick was one to care for all of his comrades, even merely because Chrom wills it, but, even Soren couldn’t help but wonder….did Frederick the Weary let his concern draw away from Chrom’s and onto someone else?

Chrom continued, speaking on more of the Shepherd’s behalf, “We need to think something concrete and proficient to handle this, I won’t risk my men even IF they’re all willing to die.”

Frederick had a very important point. Cordelia and Sumia would be at too great of a risk at this point. The Plegian army would see it coming from a long shot for sure. Soren traced his nails along his jaw, humming softly as his gaze glazed over the map restlessly. He had stared at this map for over days while they traveled to Plegia. Even with traveling with Gaius and Stahl who often attempted to distract him away from work, he was merciless in his craving for knowledge. The land, the people, the culture, the history; it truly was a desert. Lost in the path of blood, the path of power and war, lost in the sands of time until history would repeat all over again for them.

Soren paced towards Chrom’s side, getting a better angle of the map. The warrior glanced at him from the corner of his eye, the look ever knowing to the tactician at this point. Soren’s eyes narrowed, studying and analyzing all of the Shepherds, all of their allies from their strengths and weaknesses. They needed to make their entrance not only enunciate their arrival but to keep their troops and Emmeryn alive. Now what way—

A faded memory lingered into his thought process, returning him to the world of the Feroxi coliseum. Soren blinked slowly, recalling the little bits of pieces of information—Lissa climbed on Vaike’s shoulders, shouting loudly and swinging her staff in the air to show the direction they should land their strikes. Kellam remained ever quiet but drew to shouting as well when Stahl had been knocked down off his horse. Even Miriel drew away from her notes, narrowing her eyes the moment when Sully barged into the axeman and rescued her comrade from nearly getting beheaded.

Yes, yes, but why was he remembering all these details right now—

That’s when he remembered.

Flavia was amongst her crowd, profusely hurling jests towards then Khan Basilio’s direction. When Marth nearly got the better of the tactician elite, he remembered her swift movements through the East Feroxi men, pushing and shoving before leaping upon the railing. Her agile movements allowed her to climb upon the ancient foundation of the stadium, giving her an enhanced angle and called out for Chrom to get his head out of his buttocks.

A sly grin began to mature from the straight line his lips were so used to. It only began to grow as his eyes darted quickly among the map, the potential battle unfolding. With Khan Flavia’s rigorous movements and quick ability to climb, they could position a portion of the Feroxi troops to cover her as she’s the one to take the strike against the executioner. Yes, yes, this could be it.

Chrom blinked, turning to face Soren whilst he traced his fingertips along the wooden table, “I’ve seen that look on your face before—you’ve thought of something, haven’t you?”

“Heh,” Soren laughed briefly, almost astounded how easy he was to read, “Yes, I have.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s hear it, we’re not getting any younger here—well, at least I’m not,” Basilio nagged, earning an exaggerated eye roll from Flavia.

Soren cleared his throat, pushing his burgundy strands back and gestured towards the map, “These ruins here, from what the spies from both Feroxi and Ylisse have informed us will be the place where Lady Emmeryn’s execution will take place. We’re already taking this path—” His fingers traced along the long stretch of desert that bordered from Ylisse, connecting a path to the Plegian capital and to the execution grounds. “So, the evening before we march, we’ll be sending a small group of Feroxi elites to plant themselves amongst the ruins, positioning themselves here—”

“Why suggest a small group, Soren?” Basilio piped, looking eagerly towards the table, seeming like he was well engaged with the idea.

“To not only give us an idea of the amount of troops we should be encountering, but we will plant ourselves in the area where I believe they’ll attempt to kill Emmeryn which is here,” Soren drummed his finger on the sketch of a cliff side, earning an anxious look from Chrom. Yes, he knew it was cruel to imagine they could kill her from such a height, but he knew King Gangrel was one to be theatric, it was too perfect of a spot to pass up.

“Then who would lead this small group of soldiers? This will certainly not be an easy task.” Chrom questioned.

“I was going to suggest Khan Flavia actually,” Soren expressed. Flavia’s annoyance quickly washed into one of confusion, raising a brow to Soren to continue, “I realized back in Regna Ferox that not only Flavia is clearly capable of handling herself, she possess not only a long ranged weapon but her movements wouldn’t hinder even in the desert setting.”

“And what about me?” Basilio asked accusingly, “Flavia is the Khan now, she needs a responsibility of staying alive—”

“Oh? Don’t believe I can handle this, you oaf?” Flavia barked.

“Basilio, we would need you to lead the ground troops the moment Flavia initiates the attack. It’s going to be a full-out blood battle and you’ll need to cut us a path so we can rejoin with Flavia’s group.” Soren explained, “I know you’ve seen your fair share of battles, which is why I would feel more comfortable—also because I’ve noticed how it took you twenty minutes to walk over one of the desert dunes while Khan Flavia was mocking from above.” Soren rushed the final note, drawing a large step backwards towards Chrom and Frederick.

A devilish smile whirled upon Flavia’s cherry lips and she slapped the table, rattling it as she howled in laughter. Basilio’s visible eye twitched as he lips resisted to form into a grimace, turning into a strange, clench worthy smile.

“Ugh, I think you’re inflating her ego, boy.” Basilio grumbled, ignoring the brown woman’s bold laughter, “But I see your point. Flavia’s aim could challenge an archer’s. She’ll be able to kill that dastard without displacing a hair off of Emmeryn.”

“I’m flattered Basilio, it’s rare to hear such compliments,” Flavia teased, earning an extremely exaggerated eye roll from the former Khan.

Soren smirked gently, darting his attention over towards Chrom, noticing the smile that formed upon his lips. When the warrior casted his eyes to the side, catching sight of Soren’s dark orbs glancing at him, he shot his away abruptly. Soren blinked, a bit caught off guard from the gesture. Was Chrom holding something back from him?

His lips quirked, almost knowingly as the thoughts trailed in. The comment from earlier, blast, he needed to learn to shut his mouth.

The plans were being sketched, etched into the fabric of the war council table. Chrom and Flavia overlooked the plans, making minor changes and suggestions that Soren had almost overlooked. With their combined efforts, they had the plan they were going to use. Almost eagerly, Flavia and Basilio excused themselves to go inform their troops of the endeavors for the next day. Chrom, Soren, and Frederick remained in the war room, reviewing the details of the plans before Chrom would go forth to speak to the Shepherds then to the Ylisse army.

However, a soldier hastily ran into the tent, nearly tearing the flap as he stumbled forth.

“Sire! Important news! Plegian troops have been sighted not far from the camp grounds!” The soldier gasped. Soren stiffened at the news, whirling in place, his cloak following.

“What?” Chrom demanded, turning.

“Sir! They were spotted chasing after a young child and a man that accompanied her!” The soldier reported, panting from the assumed long run he finished.

Chrom and Soren shared a glance when Chrom faced forward, nodding, “We’ll handle it. Frederick. Get the Shepherds! We’re heading forth!”

**********************************

The winds whipped and lashed against the Shepherds that volunteered to head out into the open space of hell. The sun bore down directly upon them, leaving Soren to question how there wasn’t a giant glass shard hovering above them, intensifying the fiery inferno.

Miriel and Gaius had joined Soren’s side for this mission, representing the quickest moving allies on the ground. Sumia and Chrom were already informed they would fight together in this battle, giving them the advantage of range in the battle field that they needed. It bothered Soren to even consider fighting along Chrom’s side, already knowing that he might have upset the prince with his comment over his weariness over Chrom’s own self. He did not mean to insult him but the way it was addressed, it could’ve been easily as such.

Soren sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, catching Miriel’s attention.

“Is something troubling you?” She questioned unexpectedly. Even Soren had raised a brow at the remark, earning a mirthful chuckle from Gaius.

“Well, this is the first time I heard Specs offering concern over someone,” Gaius joked while Miriel merely adjusted her glasses with her index finger.

“Why of course. We’re about to engage in a conflict and I rather our tactician keep his cranium where it belongs.” She responded. Gaius and Soren shared an agreed unamused glance, Miriel seeming oblivious to her lack of empathy in her reasoning.

“But Specs right, overheard you and Blue talking earlier, seemed like you guys were having a bit of a tense situation.” Gaius remarked.

Did everyone hear about this conversation already? Did he need to put a big sign on his back already?

Naga all mighty, put an end to him. Soren nearly let an exasperated groan escape from his lungs only to clench his teeth, allowing a rumble of a growl to escape instead. He rubbed his the center of his forehead aggressively with two fingers, attempting to clear out the last comment.

“I’m fine personally Gaius, don’t worry about that conversation. I’m sure we’ll resolve it later.” Soren insisted with a casual wave. Briefly glancing towards the thief’s direction, he was only earned with a look of suspicion and an exaggerated eye roll. Note to self: Gaius is not one to believe his bluffs and will most likely call him out on his bull shit.

“Chrom! Are you sure the scout’s information was right?!” Lissa’s voice piped from behind, her back pressed against Virion’s, the lord already struggling to pace through the sand. That’s what happens when he yielded to her complaints, offering a piggy back ride until they reached to the battle. From the sweat that was drenching down his face and tips of his aqua hair, Virion could only go for so long.

“Yes Lissa, I’m sure it was,” Chrom wiped his forehead with his wrist, bringing the back of his hand down his face, “Soren, how does it look from over there?”

Soren’s lips furrowed, his eyes scanning across the desert. Unlike the rest of the desert they’ve encountered thus far, civilization drew nearby, guarded by high walls of stone from the wind that pelted relentlessly. Further from the three small settlements showed remains of a large animal, of what, Soren could only imagine were remains of a foul wyvern or a dragon. Between all three was an oasis, a sign of life within this forsaken pit. He couldn’t deny his mouth watered slightly at the liquid that shimmered and flowed in the pool, the shadows of the palm trees already giving him a great sense of relief.

Distracted with Lissa and Virion’s near shout of amazement, Soren’s eyes sharpened when he caught sight of blur object heading towards them. He stepped forward with Gaius and Miriel joining closely, having already caught onto what he was staring at.

“Is that a mirage?” Gaius questioned hastily. Miriel adjusted her glasses, her eyes sharpened dangerously.

“Improbable. Mirages are formed when a layer of cool air is hovering over an extremely hot territory. Considering the distance this mirage is forming from the reserve of water, I would suggest it’s actually the enemy.” Miriel deduced.

The said figure raised a palm, bits of electricity radiating from the center of the palm. His brown orbs widen, Soren quickly grabbed Miriel’s arm and shouted for Gaius to act hastily. It didn’t even take a second for the thief to turn and push away Virion and Lissa down the sand dune with Miriel and Soren skidding behind. A thunderous explosion rang behind, knocking the two mages off their feet and sending them tumbling down the sand. Soren gripped his head, having knocked into a hard rock with his forehead—

“Ow! Soren! Watch where you fall!” Lissa whined, holding her own forehead and fell back, mumbling weakly as Virion groaned, somehow managing to catch Miriel from her rather dangerous fall. Soren gritted his teeth, catching hold of his tome when the rest of the Shepherds gathered near them.

“Are all of you all right?!” Sumia questioned quickly with Gaius waving a hand.

“How far is the enemy?” Chrom immediately asked when Soren hurried up the slope, crawling up to peer once more.

Now the enemy was in full sight, a small group of about fifteen soldiers, a good majority consisting of Plegian mages. Soren’s eyes narrowed, immediately finding the leader amongst the mages and sighed, scratching his arm. If that was the Plegian army, the scout’s report was only half right. Now where was the—

 “AUGH! GET AWAY! Everyone just leave me ALONE!” The girl’s voice shrilled. A young girl, looking no younger than 15 seemed to hastily running through the sand. Although she was young, she seemed to be wearing….a rather revealing outfit.

“Wait, I say! Why you no comprehending, wee one?” A man’s voice echoed from afar, past the nearest village to where many of the animal remains were buried. It wasn’t too hard to hear their conversation, considering how loud they were being at the moment. An older male followed after her, unlike the young girl, he was equipped in thick clothing, decked with a battle worn shoulder armor and a long broad sword resting at his hip.

Soren blinked a few times, watching as the two scurried towards a fallen pillar, providing them with some cover. Were these the two that were getting chased?

“Please, be keeping down the voice! You give away position! Very bad!” The man ducked behind the fallen pillar, gesturing for her to settle down. The young woman stomped in place, aggressively swinging her arms, her voice only growing louder.

“My throat is dry, my shoes are full of sand, and some big weirdo is trying to KILL ME!” She screeched.

The man looked absolutely crestfallen, clutching his chest, “Oy, you break Gregor’s heart! Why you treat like villain?!”

“Looks like we found them,” Chrom joined Soren’s side, resting his arm upon the sand, looking at the spot in question, “I don’t think the Plegians have noticed them yet.”

“Then we should move hastily,” Soren’s glance moved away, catching sight of the villages, frowning, “we’ll need to split up. Some of the others need to warn the villages about the Plegian attacks that could come.”

“Agreed, Sumia and I can reach the first village on our left while Virion, Lissa, and Lon’qu can reach the ones on the right and past the spring,” Chrom insisted. Soren briefly looked over the surrounding groups, nodding in approval at the plan, already assuming Miriel, Gaius and he were to make their way to the two over there. After briefly making minor suggestions to Chrom, the Shepherd leader stood up.

“Hold on! We’re going to save you!” Chrom shouted, the young girl turning, her vibrant olive green strands flowing behind and showering over her shoulders. 

“Yo-You’re going to help me?” She called out, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Lissa was quick to join Chrom’s side, gasping when she saw the sight of the girl, “Yeah! We’ll save you from that creep!”

“Oy, this day has been nothing but insults and punches to Gregor’s groin.” The man groaned, slapping his forehead as the girl smiled widely beside.

Seconds later the two were ducking down behind the pillow, sand exploding behind them as the young girl screamed. Chrom and Soren had now stood up straight, catching sight of the Plegian leader standing closest towards where the two were hiding. Damn it, he caught sight of where they were hiding. Five against those two was not a fair number.

“Gotcha, you slippery scamp! Prepare for a dose of Grima’s wrath.” The leader shouted, a choir of the Plegian soldiers joining.

“Oy, this is most terrible! Do you see now? They make with the catching of us!” Gregor shouted, his teeth clenched aggressively when another round of magic missed at their direction, a sand geyser sprouting upwards from behind.

“Just hold on until we can reach you, and we’ll drive them off!” Chrom hollered.

Soren gritted his teeth, taking to his feet and whistled for Gaius and Miriel to follow whist he made his descent down the slope. Chrom called out for Sumia, quickly catching her hand and they soared into the sky, heading towards the village. Soren reached the bottom of the dune, his fingers gripping upon the hilt of his sword as Gaius joined next to him. Soren darted his eyes to the side, watching as Lon’qu led with Virion and Lissa trailing closely behind to the next village. Everything was falling according to plan so far. Whistling at the sight of the number of mages that were gathering towards their direction, Gaius rested his sword by his hip.

“This ain’t gonna be easy,” Gaius remarked cheekily.

“Easy is an understatement, I presume the word you’re struggling to refer to is problematic,” Miriel regarded. Gaius, unable to turn to face the mage, turned to face Soren instead. Blinking slowly, the thief sighed, his head drooping down towards the sea of sand.

“….it’s called a joke, Specs.” Gaius tiredly responded, “all right Bubbles, let’s do this!”

“Right! Miriel! Go!” Soren called out.

“Affirmative!” the seal beneath her feet rumbled as gales began to blow around her, “Elwind!”

The spell shot towards the mages, sweeping the sand up to create a dust storm. The mages collectively shouted as the sand swept along the grounds. In the midst of the panic, Soren and Gaius quickly took into the elements, merging to become one with the storm itself. Plegian soldiers found themselves struggling to see past the storm, aiming collectively towards Miriel was last seen standing. Yet when the lone mage that had contained an Elwind tome was ready to cast it to blow the storm away, he was surprised to find his tome stolen away.

“What the—ack!” Blood splattered upon another mage, earning a frightful scream of surprise when it turned into a gurgle. One by one the mages were cut down, resorting to aimlessly firing their tomes into the unknown space.

“Heh, who knew they’d end up attacking one another,” Gaius snickered as Soren joined along, the duo briefly pounding their fists together at the success of their dope. All that it took was taking down two mages and the other four were able to handle themselves. “Nice one, Bubbles. I didn’t even need to get my hands dirty for that one.”

“Hold your breath, Gaius, we still have a lot to deal with.” Soren insisted, his attention now focused on the young girl and man running towards the opening their group created.

“Go! Miriel will have your back!” Soren informed quickly as they darted by, earning only quick thanks along the way.

“She’s got red hair and a bad sense of humor! Can’t miss her!” Gaius added, earning a displeasing glare from Soren.

Gaius merely shrugged back, pulling a lollipop from the sleeve of his arm and sucked on it eagerly, smirking. Soren rolled his eyes, shifting his attention once more towards the two Plegian archers that were heading towards their direction. At the sight of them, Gaius groaned, swinging his steel sword readily.

“Jeezes, these guys don’t give up, do they?”

“Better they fight us than Lon’qu.” Soren acknowledged.

“Mister Super Swordsman?” Gaius grinned, nodding as Soren took his tome this time, flames whipping up around his feet, “Oh yeah, they’d probably be /begging/ for death at this point.”

The two charged into battle, easily disposing of the targets as the plan fell into place. The villages were quick to listen to their words, shutting their gates from the Plegian troops that attempted to enter in. From there, Lon’qu became a war machine, taking out four men all on his own, with assistance from Virion when he took out one of his own. Sumia and Chrom focused their attention on informing the further village, finishing off at least one mage that dared crossed their path.

Gaius and Soren cut their way through the battle field, finally reaching to where the Plegian leader held his ground with the remaining two of his unit. An aggravated shout of annoyance and a command led the lone woman out towards their direction, the other towards Chrom and Sumia. Instead of charging into battle as the other Plegians had done, she took her time, her eyes drooping towards the sand bed below and grimaced.

“…You seem reluctant to fight.” Soren called out to the lone Plegian mage that remained.

It seemed she was guarding the leader of their group and another axeman that was busy combating against Sumia and Chrom. She was a beautiful woman for sure, but something about her….it put Soren in an off mood. Her dark coat flowed loosely around her shoulders while the only thing that prevented probably many men from imagining too much was the dark, skin tight full body stocking.

“Death comes for all of us eventually,” She responded darkly, her eyes darting to the side, clutching her tome closely to her chest, “why invite it early, fighting for a cause I don’t believe in?”

“So…I think we should take that as a no,” Gaius remarked causing the woman to scoff.

“Let’s just say I’m keeping my options open. I have a bit of a rebellious streak in me, a ‘dark side’ you can say.” Her gaze lingered onto Soren, a smile slipping upon her features that only sent a horrible shiver to the tactician.

“Then perhaps you would rebel now and fight for our cause?” Soren questioned. The woman stared at him questionably, blinking slowly. Even Gaius turned, the lollipop dangerously dangling from his lips, threatening to fall.

“You would trust me?” She probed, surprised, “What if this is just a ploy to plunge a dagger into your dear prince’s back?”

Soren frowned at the idea but no, he sensed the hidden intention in her words. Why would the Ylisse trust a Plegian soldier, especially at a time like this. He knew that she wasn’t stupid, she was probably prepared for death right at that moment. Surprising her with the chance to join their side, it can only be assumed that she thinks that she was being played with.

The irony of this situation, that Soren was the one that had to judge upon this young woman. He already had an idea that she could easily turn traitorous at any moment. Judging from her situation of abandoning her current comrades, it only made him wonder. Perhaps…he did this too…back before he lost his memory. Maybe he was searching for a way to survive just like she was looking for right now. To deny the chance, now that Soren thought about it, whether she was a Plegian or not was cruel. Especially if someone like himself was able to join the army without much argument. It seems…..Chrom was following in his sister’s footsteps more than he realized.

“No, because, that’s not what Chrom would believe—I know he’s following more of his sister’s example, to be able to accept regardless of their background. Trust me, if it was my choice, I’d be hesitant...I am hesitant” Soren shook his head slowly, “but we already have to watch our back, whether you’re on our side or not. If you were to threaten him, you’d have to face us anyways. I know what it’s like to question the trust given to us…but I wouldn’t betray it for anything. Especially when it’s being given out when we need it most.”

The young woman studied him closely, her eyes squinting from the rays of the sun. A cry echoed not far from behind, Soren catching sight of the fallen axeman and Chrom turning towards the leader, a sword pointing towards his general direction. Tharja turned to the leader of her unit, her stance turned solid as the wind blew her hair to the side.

“What are you waiting for, Tharja?! KILL THEM!” His order echoed violently.

“Hmph,” Tharja leered back towards Soren’s direction, smirking gently as she raised her tome. Soren’s maghony eyes narrowed, hoping she didn't attack. He was not in the mood to kill a woman like this. Finally, a huff escaped from her lips, “Well you know, long live the king and all, but I would like to live too.” She spun elegantly, the seal sparking underneath her feet as she threw her hand out. “Elthunder!”

“You bit—” The leader was thrown back by the surge of thunder, stumbling only to have the spell repeated once more, an agonizing scream escaping his throat. Smoke seeped out of his charred body as Tharja turned her body to fully face the two men, brushing a loose strand of her raven locks. Gaius whistled at the sight, resting his sword on his shoulder.

“Niiiiice,” Gaius complimented, earning a smirk from the dark mage.

Soren sighed heavily in relief, not noticing how tense he had been at that very moment. He rather have Chrom handle moments like this so he didn’t have to worry about debating whether or not if he had just suffered from a heart attack or not. Tharja turned her attention from Gaius to Soren, walking….rather amorously over. Soren darted his eyes back and forth in disbelief when she stood, nearly pressing her chest against his.

“Usually when I bring up the backstabbing bit the discussion is over. All right, then—consider me your new ally,” Her fingers tapped and trailed along Soren’s chest, unexpectingly causing the tactician to burn from the attention. Tharja smirked, one that even the devil would have a hard time to compete. “For now, my love.”

My love?

“U-uh—right. You should—speak to Chrom personally about joining.” Soren changed the subject quickly, tugging his hood over his head. His cheeks were flaring at this point, hoping to Naga that the shadow of his hood hid it from her view. Tharja smirked suggestively, slowly brushing her hand down his chest before turning to head to Chrom, catching notice the prince was almost just as confused as Soren was.

Soren felt his cheeks flushed brightly, tugging his hood as the other Shepherds came, the two individuals they saved introducing themselves as Nowi and Gregor, asking if they could also join in the Shepherd’s cause. If it wasn’t Tharja that was going to have his face burning in embarrasement, it was going to be Nowi. Looks like looks were deceiving—she was really a thousand year old fire breathing dragon.

This army was getting weirder and weirder.

**********************************

Resting back at the camp, Soren returned back to his research, now deciding to enhance his knowledge upon the manakete race which Nowi belonged to. It seemed extraordinary that they were able to live for so long yet still give the impression to have a youthful appearance. Perhaps it’s even more apparent considering all Nowi wants to do at the moment is eat and play games with the other Shepherds. She had so much energy, it had nearly tired himself out when he offered to play—for four hours straight.

Soren exhaled, rubbing his forehead, stretching his bare arms above his head. His hair was tied up at the moment, leaving fringes of crimson locks cradling his jaw. His fingers paced along the pages, his eyes quickly scanning and indulging the information. He was tired, that much was true, but his need for knowledge surpassed the need for sleep.

“Mind if I come in?” Soren turned his body around in his seat, surprised to find Chrom still awake at this hour. Soren merely nodded, gesturing with his head towards the open seat by his desk. Instead of wearing his normal attire, Chrom was relaxed in a simple white shirt and his trousers, coming over to join Soren by the table.

“Reading again, Soren?” Chrom observed as Soren rolled his eyes gently.

“When am I not? I’m surprised to see you’re up so late though, Chrom.” Soren admitted.

Chrom hummed softly, resting his jaw upon his hand, his eyes softening, “I watched off Flavia and her team go off… I can’t sleep to be honest. Tomorrow we march to Plegia’s capital to save Emm. My mind is buzzing with too many thoughts of what will come tomorrow.”

Soren sighed in agreement, closing his book, “I’ll admit, that’s on my mind as well. But I know we’ll be able to get your sister back, I know we can.”

“I have no doubts, considering the new allies we’ve gained today. The young woman, Tharja was it, offered us valuable information that’s going to surely help us tomorrow.” Chrom admitted as Soren grimaced at the name, slumping in his seat. His thoughts were heading back to when she touched him—ugh—no.

Soren looked to Chrom, finding the man was—smirking?

“What’s that look on your face?” Soren questioned.

Chrom laughed in response, shaking his head. Soren stared, clearly not understanding what was so funny, only causing Chrom to laugh harder.

“What?!”

“It’s funny…I was thinking back to when I had spoken to her. She mentioned that you were the one that extended the offer to her.” Chrom exclaimed.

Soren flushed briefly, turning his attention towards the closed cover of his book.

“So?”

Chrom pressed on, “What changed your mind? About trusting others?”

Soren exhaled heavily, pressing his palm fully against his forehead. What made him act like that honestly? Was it because he could sympathize with her at the moment? Or that he had imagined himself in her shoes at that very moment, thinking about how Chrom extended the offer to him?

“Well, I thought—that Tharja and I are alike. That even if I’m a Plegian or not, we were both considered enemies at some point. Yet, there was some kind of—hope—that someone saw in us. A greater good that could be achieved if only by giving the chance.” Soren explained slowly, noticing Chrom was intently listening.

“I know I constantly harasses you about helping out strangers, but I only do it because I care about your safety too. Now I see why you do it…or at least I have a better appreciation towards it,” Soren hesitated but continued, “Lady Emmeryn would be proud of you, Chrom.”

Chrom smiled softly at the gesture, nodding slowly as Soren sat back, sighing gently.

“Imagining myself to be a Plegian is strange, but it’d explain why my cloak resembles their traditional markings. Ugh…” Soren rubbed his cheeks, off-handly commenting, “Still wondering if I’ll ever be able to sway your mind…”

“Soren, I’m not going to change my mind on any of the decisions I’ve made,” Chrom informed him, “I’m not going to stop caring, no matter how much you worry about my safety,” He patted his back, smiling “I trust you, I don’t care if you’re from Plegia. Your Soren, you’re our friend and _that’s_ what I know to be true. As I hope it is true for you too,”

Soren flushed lightly, exhaling heavily, feeling his shoulders slump. Finally he relented to Chrom’s will, “I understand. Thank you for listening to my concerns though, Chrom. I care greatly for you and the others.”

“Heh, I couldn’t tell, I’ve thought this whole time you were plotting against us.” Chrom grinned as Soren rolled his eyes, smirking back.

“Really? Oh no, you’ve caught me after all, I’m actually the Mad King.” Soren sarcastically responded.

“I knew it.”

The two men laughed when all the sudden, the temperature dropped faster than when they had entered the Feroxi’s territory. Soren felt an uncomfortable shiver run up his back and he slightly shifted in his seat, peering over his shoulder. For a moment, he didn’t know where it came from—till he noticed Tharja watching from behind a tent. Chrom turned as well, tilting his head slightly.

“It seems like you have a…admirer?” Chrom couldn’t phrase the last word correctly as the young woman slipped away from their views, earning a disturbing foreboding presence. Soren grimaced, brushing his hair back and looked at Chrom’s face fully.

“Are you sure about not changing your ways?” Soren questioned quickly. Chrom stared out towards the direction of where Tharja disappeared to, rubbing his neck.

“No Soren, but maybe I’ll think about it next time. I can’t take my word back now. We’ll just…have to keep an eye out.”

Soren once again relented, “Agreed.”

“Heh, now it’s time to get some sleep,” Chrom stood up, patting Soren’s shoulder, “Tomorrow, we march.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when my girlfriend tries to help me write~
> 
> “I LOVE YOU.” Chrom confessed. “MARRY ME.”
> 
> “T-This….is ALL so sudden!!!” Soren blushed. “YES!!”
> 
> “…..Excellent .w.”
> 
> *S Rank Achieved*
> 
> “We’ll have five kids right?” 
> 
> “Only two.” 
> 
> “Only two?” 
> 
> “Yes, Morgan and Lucina. I've already decided their names~”


	13. Emmeryn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ..............What have I done?

_“Love requires Sacrifice”_

* * *

  _“Chin up, Soren. It’s cause of you that we’ve come this far. The plan is risky but that’s what this situation calls for.”_

_“This time tomorrow, we’ll be swapping stories with Emm on the road home.”_

_“Everything is going to be all right in the end—”_

_Soren escaped from the tent, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence again. So much was being weighed upon his shoulders at the moment. He couldn’t comprehend how he was able to keep so level headed at the moment. He felt like at any given point he was going to crumble and loose focus on their objective. Yet it was the mere objective that kept his mind from scattering._

_To save Lady Emmeryn._

_The Shepherds, the combined efforts of the Feroxi and Ylisse armies were under his call, following the plan that he had carefully set up for execution on the day when it was needed most. He just hoped—no he prayed to Naga that this would work without a hitch. That Chrom and Khan Flavia’s words would ring true and Emmeryn would return to them. To join by her sister’s joyous hugs and Chrom sharing the success of the battle, claiming to her that she’ll be safe once she returns home and that they would wage the final battle against Gangrel’s forces._

_Soren continued to walk aimlessly, the brisk wind sending shivers from his shoulders down. He adjusted his hood gently over his head, clenching his teeth. His mind was so busy fiddling with the thoughts of tomorrow, he didn’t even notice the lack of noise around him. Something grew amiss._

“Master Grima, Exalt Emmeryn is to be put to death on the morrow.” _Soren turned hastily on the dirt path, finding two figures at a crossroad between tents. His eyes narrowed, catching notice of their conversation, “_ Events will soon be back on course.”

_When Soren examined the face of one of the men, the sharp chin and narrowed red eyes in the regal attire, his body jolted in place and Soren gasped. No, this was impossible. It was the man that attempted to assassinate Emmeryn, he was dead surely!_

_Soren himself watched as his body was hauled away with the other causalities._

_Soren’s dark orbs slowly followed to the figure across from the dead man, whose face was hidden in the shrouds of his hood. Cloaked in the same outfit as he, an indescribable echo radiated from the person.  Unable to comprehend the language, only the dead man knew when he laughed._

“Ha ha, yes. I should never have doubted the truth of your words. The yoke of destiny cannot be cast off!”

_Soren hastened ahead to catch the two, swinging his tome open. Whatever they were planning, it was going to end here and now._

“Even as they resist, they write your future with every step, O great one!”

_The seal erupted from underneath Soren’s soles, crossing his arms over one another to execute the vicious thunder spell. Smoke escaped from the cracked grounds, fizzing and sparking quietly. Soren hurried through the smoke, swiping the air expecting to find the enemies to have spread out—but where absolutely nowhere to be found._

_………_

_Soren spun, finding the hooded figure stalking behind him, the shadow withdrawn over his face leaving the tactician with an ominous sense for his own wellbeing. The figure withdrew his hands from his pockets, the illuminating light from above bathing his exposed hands. Soren’s eyes widen, finding the slithering, elaborate lines that were covering his palms. They…they looked just like his own!_

_Soren clutched his head, a throbbing headache developing beneath his temples. He winched from the sudden pain, his eyes blurring to focus upon the details of the tattoo that covered the figure’s hands and wrists. That’s when he noticed the electrifying red eyes that escaped from the hood. One moment, one glance, and the pain erupted within his being._

_“AH!"_

**********************************

“AH!” Soren gasped violently, sitting up from the cold mat on ground. His tactic book clattered to his side when he reached to clutch his loose shirt, his eyes dilating.

“Soren, hey Soren! What’s wrong?!” Soren panted lightly, his attention finally lifting to find Lissa’s presence in the tent, rather surprised to not notice her sooner. From the minimal light that was peering through from the outside, he could only imagine it was just a little before dawn. What was she doing up at this time of the morning?

Soren blinked jadedly, rubbing his wrists against the crooks of his eyes to get rid of the sand. His heart still pounded in his ears, feeling it thump aggressively against the back of his hand. What was that…?

“Was it a nightmare?” Lissa pressed, kneeling down on the free side of his mat, gazing concerningly at the tactician.

“Is…is that what it was?” Soren murmured, his eyes dropping between his lap. He flexed his gloved hand, frowning lightly, “y-yes, it must have been….”

The strategist covered an eye with his gloved hand, sighing lightly. Seconds would pass when he remembered that Lissa was still in the room. He exhaled heavily, throwing the light, scruffy sheet off the lower part of his body and probably sat up, turning his body to properly look at her.

“What brings you here, Lissa? Was there something you needed?” Soren inquired. Lissa blinked, her cheeks suddenly tinting red as she bolted from her kneeling position, smoothing out her dress when she stood up, earning a strange look from Soren.

“Frederick says it’s time to march.” Lissa answered sheepishly, clasping her hands together, “And we can’t start the plan without our master tactician!”

Soren’s lips quirked, turning his head forward towards his desk, finding his coat settled along the back of the chair. His stack of tomes and sword laid nearby, polished, sharpened, and ready for the fight that was to come. Soren nodded slowly, placing a hand on his knee and fixed himself to stand up. He hurried to grab his coat, adjusting it on hastily and nitpicking along his boots to make sure they were on tight.

From this point on, no one could deny that this was going to be the turning point for all of history.

Soren turned to Lissa, his tomes tucked between his armpit and side, the sword hanging protectively within the sheath.

“Let’s go save Emmeryn, Lissa.” Soren declared.

Lissa smiled, “Mhmm!”

**********************************

The Ylissean army and Feroxi army were split amongst several groups, a majority of them being led by Khan Basilio, would be averted towards the city. The vast of the Plegian troops would be waiting to hear for King Gangrel’s speech, earning a surprise assault from the south. The Shepherds along with a small army of their own made way to the grounds of where the execution would take place.

Luckily for Tharja and Gaius’s assistance, they were able to mask themselves in disguise from the troops that were protecting the area, disposing those who were quick to notice and hiding the bodies without much disturbance. Chrom and Frederick determination proved to be the grand motivation to executing the plan without hesitation. With the healers to the back, Stahl and Cordelia were tasked to make sure they were to be kept safe no matter what. Sully and Lon’qu were taking a lead with the rest of the Shepherds, leaving the small group of six to head forth towards the group.

The only ones that could truly head forward were Tharja, Gaius, and Soren while Frederick, Lon’qu, and Chrom were far back, ready to alert the rest of the Shepherds when the time calls it. If only….if only Soren could’ve done it with anyone else.

“Hehehe, isn’t this rather romantic?” Tharja remarked, curling an arm around Soren’s causing the tactician to stiffen, incredibly uncomfortable with the act. So far, none of the Plegian soldiers or citizens had noticed anything strange, probably considering them to be a couple at this point. Which made it all the worst, Soren’s cheeks were aflame at this point.  He turned his head to Gaius for help, noticing the thief was sucking on a gumdrop, quirking his lip.

“You’re on your own, Bubbles. Sunshine here seems quite smitten with you.” Gaius remarked.

“Something I’ve finding very hard to believe considering we just met yesterday…” Soren tried snaking his way away from her grip but her yield was strong. At the moment Soren was going to ask for respite, she leaned up towards his shoulder.

“You don’t think the soldiers or guards would know your face by now? The famed tactician of the Ylisse army? Please, you’d be a fool to think otherwise.” She informed him, her lips flattening to a line, “I am immensely enjoying this, but it’s just a ruse to fool the others. For now…”

“Although I know you’re right, I still worry with your actual intentions…” Soren remarked back, earning a devious smile from the dark sorceress, her grip on his arm tightening.

“Hehehe…”

“Whoo….you sure know how to pick them, Bubbles.” Gaius teased, poking Soren’s cheek as it only grew redder.

“Gaius, you’re not helping.”

“Oh? What a shame. I thought I was providing some real, solid advice there.” Today was not the day for the relentless teasing. Even if Soren didn’t want to admit that it was easing his mind. 

“Quiet you two,” Tharja slapped Gaius’s chest, earning a silent, exaggerated ‘ow’ from the thief, “King Gangrel is coming.”

True to Tharja’s word, the crowd grew quiet upon the desert floor, far enough from the ruins of a building where King Gangrel arrived. He walked boastfully towards a spot where his people could see him clearly. Then on cue, Emmeryn arrived. Soren’s eyes narrowed, catching notice the tear of the hems of her dress, the open gash upon her hand. He frowned at the sight wondering what horrible conditions they could’ve kept Lady Emmeryn in.

Emmeryn was being guided by a Plegian soldier, wielding a large, blood stained axe. Upon the remains of a large dragon, she was led towards the edge, hovering not too far where Gangrel was to make his speech. Soren clenched his teeth, hoping this would go according to plan. His eyes darted towards the the skull of the dragon, finding amongst many of the void eyes, there seemed to be movement. Flavia’s men must have successfully made it to her position. Even better from the looks of it. They’ll be able to escape with no problem. The crowd’s murmurs grew once Emmeryn was finally placed at her presumed execution. King Gangrel was surely the one for dramatics.

“Good people! Warriors of Plegia! Welcome! Welcome, one and all!” King Gangrel’s voice boosted loudly amongst the crowd, “Your anticipation electrifies the air!”

“We ALL remember the crimes of Ylisse…would you have their witch-queen answer for them? Here? Today? NOW?” The crowd’s grotesque shouting of approval proved to be overwhelming, the ground rattling from the stomping and collective clanking of weapons from the troops. Soren could feel his own insides and twist darkly at the stupidity of the majority of the crowd. He knew they had their own rights and pains, but to turn to this point, how desperate could they be for a compensations?

“Yessss! Finally, we will have JUSTICE!” King Gangrel announced, his arm gesturing towards Emeryn’s position. She remained unmoved, her hands clasped together in a silent prayer.

“EXECUTIONER! If you would be so kind…”

“FLAVIA!” Soren’s words echoed loudly, earning many to turn towards the exposed tactician. Tharja released her grip upon Soren and Gaius withdrew his sword, waving it challenging towards those who dare get any closer.

Flavia revealed herself from the carnage of the giant dragon, her axe glimmering from the sun’s rays, “I’VE GOT HIM!”

Before the executioner could touch Emmeryn, Flavia’s quick toss proved faster, catching the executioner in the chest, blood spilling back as he stumbled, ultimately falling off the cliff’s edge. Dozens of citizen’s cries escaped the air, now spilling into a mass panic to escape what would become a blood battle. Gaius and Tharja were quickly to arm, finding the Plegian soldiers were quick to find them amongst the escaping crowd.

“Everyone! Now!” Soren shouted.

Quick to action, the Shepherds finally revealed themselves amongst the ruins, being led by Chrom and Frederick into battle. Soren smirked, finding all the pieces having fallen into place for the battle before turning to join Gaius’s and Tharja’s side, flipping his tome open.

Chrom’s orders echoed seconds after, “Take out all the soldiers here first! We’ll deal with the Mad King later!”

Soren’s eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Gangrel, hearing the maniacal laughter escape from his lips. Clearly he overheard Chrom’s order, moving to a position where Chrom could clearly see him.

 “Oh will you now? Bwa ha! We’ve been expecting you, Little Prince. Men: Kill him, kill his sister. Kill his troops, his friends and anyone else you find! KILL THEM ALL!” Gangrel bellowed to his troops, earning horrible battle cries in response. Yet King Gangrel would not join his mind in this combat, having jumped behind, and landing upon Aversa’s mare, taking off into the skies.

Soren’s eyes narrowed when he joined the two’s sides, earning a curious look from the dark sorceress, “Riveting, isn’t it? Coming to join us?” Tharja smirked when Soren answered with the shot of his Elthunder towards the enemy line.

The battle commenced, battle cries and screams ringing into the air. Plegian troops and the Ylisse’s troops clashed aggressively towards the west. Mounds of dirt exploded into the air, dusting the combating soldiers in this hell fight. Soldiers from both sides were spread across the tainted desert, dyeing the sand a poisonous red. Basilio and Flavia managed to meet up once again, taking command of the battle and striking down all those who crossed their paths. During the course of the fighting, Soren, Gaius, and Tharja managed to return back towards the Shepherds lines, though not as easily as one imagined. Many Plegians fell in along the way, tactician’s sleeve dripping maroon drops and his hand a muddy red.

Soren panted heavily, wiping his brow of his sweat, finding his irritation growing once more. From where they were before, it was too heavily guarded to advance by themselves. Now Emmeryn laid unprotected upon the cliff’s edge, watching first handed the horrendous battle that was occurring. Lissa and Maribelle were quick to action, moving on Soren’s command to heal Tharja and Gaius first while he took the moment to catch his breathe. Soren pressed his back against the ruins, taking a moment to collect his thoughts,

“Soren! There you are,” Soren lifted his head to find Chrom, joined by a tall woman of the clergy robes. She possessed a soft face, a sharp chin and long, well-kept blonde hair that was tied to keep from getting in her face. Beside her she held not only a staff, but a heavy axe, already having taken into the battle as well. Soren stared momentarily to the woman before focusing upon Chrom once more.

“You made it out decently from the looks of it,” Chrom eased the atmosphere, earning a faint scoff from the strategist.

“The grounds were Emmeryn is being kept is being guarded by Gangrel’s general, it’s just as I predicted.” Soren informed the young prince, earning a grim look to his face.

Chrom nodded, “I see, well we can’t stop now. The plan is working tremendously at this point. Basilio and Flavia had to make a minor retreat to pull away the majority of the Plegian troops from pouring into the grounds here. They’ll be joining us not too long.”

“Then in the mean time we should wrap this up. I noticed Nowi and Lon’qu were cutting a path, allowing Ricken, Frederick, Sumia, and Gregor to move ahead. At this rate, we may get the opening we need.” Soren concluded.

“You need medical attention first, brave tactician.” The woman beside Chrom knelt to Soren’s side, her staff resting upon her bent knee. The jewel upon the head of the staff illuminated, spreading a blue light upon Soren’s arm and up. Soren at first winced but settled upon the healing spell, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Miss…?”

“You may call me Libra,” The woman smiled, “and I’m a man, sir. A war monk to be exact.”  

Soren’s eyes widen, a flush growing upon his cheeks at the growing mistake he had made at the moment. Dear Naga, why did he feel like he was being cursed at the moment with this luck.

Chrom extended a hand for the male to take, helping him up and informed Libra to join with the other mages, knowing they could gladly use his assistance at such a crucial time. Libra nodded briefly, swinging the axe to his side and cut through the crowd to join with the other clerics.

“I thought the same too, Soren. You’re not the only one, it might have gotten much more awkward.” Chrom added sheepishly once the monk was out of earshot.

Soren rubbed his cheeks with the heel of his palm, averting his attention away to focus once more on the battlefield. It was in utter chaos at this point, catching sight of the familiar faces of the Shepherds battling it out. It shouldn’t be long now, Basilio’s troop must have broken into the prison at this point. They were so close, they just needed to rid of the general in order to make this mission a success. Soren exhaled, following the line of battle towards the open courtyard. Now it was time to make the move.

“Soren, are you with me?” Chrom asked, his eyes narrowing once Frederick landed a devastating blow to the men guarding the courtyard, signaling for the prince and tactician to make their move.

“Until the end,” Soren agreed, removing his tome from his robe.

Chrom and Soren both charged ahead, cutting down those that came in their paths. Frederick and Lon’qu kept an open path for the two to charge ahead to the open courtyard. Inside was only the General of Gangrel’s army, covered in strong, impervious armor blocking the way to Emmeryn’s path.

“You’ll never save your precious exalt, scum!” The general shouted.

Thinking back to the assault against Raimi, Soren and Chrom worked off each other easily, remembering the strategy that was used before. Soren fired his magic towards the General, knowing he was unable to move quick enough to avoid the damaging magic attack. When a Plegian mage took the chance to charge inside, Chrom took the moment to assault against the General, allowing Soren to fight against the mage in their own fight.

This fight was going to end swiftly at the rate it was going, knowing the Chrom’s strength had only increase and his determination stronger than ever. It was quick and seemingly unfair at how quick Soren was able to disable and kill the soldier, turning with a swing of his Elwind tome to knock the General off his feet, allowing Chrom to handle the final blow against the Plegian general. The air grew thick as Chrom pulled his sword out, panting lightly, facing Soren with a firm expression.

“Soren! Their wyvern riders have fallen and so has their General! The skies are clear!” Chrom called out and Soren looked up, smirking at the sight of Cordelia’s and Sumia’s job well done. Now they could commence to the next act with no problem. “I’m giving the signal!”

Chrom whistled loudly, the batting of wings echoing in the air from behind. To the surprise of many, Phila and some seven of her knights entered the battle field, cutting down Plegian soldiers that dared crossed their paths. Even at the sight of her most faithful knight, Emmeryn gasped.

“Your Grace!” Phila called out and Emmeryn smiled at the sight.

“Phila! I’m so glad to see you’re safe! But how—”

“Khan Basilio’s men freed me. Come, we must hurry!” Phila snapped at the reins, ordering her fellow sisters to provide support as she took to the skies. It was only a matter of time that Phila would be able to safely grab Emmeryn. They were almost there—

“CAPTAIN!” A Pegasus knight screamed, blood spilling forward from the winged animal, both rider and beast falling. The crack was horrendous as Soren turned hastily, expecting to catch a Plegian archer in the act. No….the dead eyes were not what he was expecting to see, not of the Risen. The hair upon his neck pricked and his body tensed at the sight of the Risens, now starting to see that it was not just one-but a dozen archers had positioned themselves all along the courtyard.

“Risens……” The sentence caught in his throat, his fingers trembling. No—no! This shouldn’t be happening! Where did they get the power to summon the Risens like this?! NO!

“CHROM! There’s Risens everywhere!” Lissa shouted, her staff being held in defense. A risen axeman charged towards her but was cut down swiftly by Lon’qu, earning a frightful gasp from the cleric.

“Bwa ha ha! Oh, did an army of living corpses just APPEAR out of the blue?!” Gangrel laughed maniacally from above, “Truly, the heavens smile upon mighty King Gangrel this day!”

Arrows fired off into the air, catching Phila in the chest, earning a frightful response from her fellow sister’s, watching as their captain fell from her stead and hitting the tiled floor below. Frederick and Soren were quick to act, firing at any Risen that attempted to finish the Captain off, shielding her to give her room. It still was not enough as other Pegasus’s knights screams resonated into the air, the splat and cracks from animals’ bones shattering any sense of hope their might have been.

“Your Grace, I…..Forgive me…” Phila’s words choked upon the blood that protruded from her lips. Frederick shouted for Lissa’s assistance, keeping the Captain up right while the other Shepherds moved hastily to protect the Pegasus’s knights while they could.

“PHILA!” Emmeryn’s scream rang louder even as the other Pegasus knights were slain one by one, archers firing faster than they were being killed by the Shepherds on the ground. Even Lissa staying by Phila’s side, they could do nothing for the Captain as the life in her eyes drained away.

“No no no…” Soren stumbled back, his eyes widening in horror at the twisted outcome. The Risens should have never come. No, they should have known that this could’ve been an option. GODS HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN.

“We’ve lost…” Chrom uttered, his eyes widening in horror.

“I believe this is what they a reversal of fortunes.” Gangrel cackled, stepping off from Aversa’s dark Pegasus, now returning once again to the battle field, “Now…grovel before me. Plead! Beg for your worthless lives!”

“I’d give up my life before I’d beg for it from you!” Chrom shouted angrily, swinging his sword out in retaliation. Chrom could only prevent another Risen from attacking him, his attention being averted to catch his tactician wildly out of focus.

“Oh, now THAT is a good line. A fitting epitaph for your tombstone, perhaps? But it’s not just your life in the balance. The exalt still stands upon the block.” At the mention of Emmeryn, Soren’s eyes casted forward, watching as she truly had nowhere else to go, considering Risens were now prowling the grounds and skies. “And I have a dozen bows trained on her. All it would take is one word from me…”

“Emm!” Chrom sprinted forward, ready to make the dash to help towards his sister when Gangrel sneered.

“ARCHERS! If this Ylissean pup or any others so much as twitches, let fly your arrows!” Gangrel threatened viciously. The archers all spread themselves, taking aim when Chrom halted, his breathing severally uneven from the terrible rate of events. Chrom growled, gripping his sword tightly between his hands, glaring at the Mad King.

“I….I’ll kill you!” Chrom swore savagely.

“Go ahead! I welcome it!” Gangrel spread his eyes apart, “Just know you were responsible for Big Sister’s bloody demise!”

Chrom hissed, his grip upon his sword tightening. Soren’s eyes darted hastily, trying to see if there was even an opening to take down the Risen archers. There were too many of them, all lined and ready to fire even if one of them moved. His heartbeat erratically drew his mind into a frenzy, unable to come with a plan at the moment. Gangrel had them caught.

“Who wants the pleasure to send the exalt to her demise?!” Gangrel taunted, looking amongst the Shepherds, none daring to move from their positions, “No one? Bah! Your merry band isn’t quite so headstrong anymore, is it?! Pathetic!”

“DAMN YOU!” Chrom cursed, only earning a terrible laugh from the Plegian King.

“Now, now, my boy—no one needs die today. Not you. Not the exalt. Not your friends. Just lay down your sword, and give me the Fire Emblem.” King Gangrel reasoned, his smile growing wicked at the circumstances growing. 

NO! That was the last thing Soren knew should never have be done. It was for sure the Mad King would enjoy nothing more to wash the ground with their own blood, even IF Chrom were to give him the Emblem. Soren faced Chrom, shaking his head wildly, his crimson bangs swaying. 

“Chrom! You can’t trust him! Once he gets it, you know he’s going to kill us anyways!” Soren argued as Chrom’s shoulders shook.

“OF COURSE I can’t trust him! I’m not an idiot!” Chrom hissed, his temper simmering. “If I just say no, he’ll kill her! The gods are cruel, damn them! My sister or my duty! A problem with no right answer, yet I must choose!” He lamented, shutting his eyes tightly, “But I can’t choose to sacrifice Emmeryn!”

“That’s right. Don’t give up! There has to be a way…” Soren hastily looked around, biting his lip so firmly that blood began to seep down his chin. There had to be another way to save her, there had to be. _'Think Soren, think carefully. You couldn't afford to screw this up.'_

“If there is, I can’t see it…ah gods!” Chrom’s shoulders shook violently.

“I WILL COUNT TO THREE! Throw down your weapons, or your exalt becomes the world’s largest quiver target!” Gangrel threatened angrily, his impatience growing from the Shepherds pondering. 

“Chrom!” Lissa panicked, her face growing incredibly pale. Even Frederick’s own face was growing pale as the countdown expelled from Gangrel.

“ONE!” The Mad King began.

“Soren, think of something!” Frederick chastised causing the tactician to turn angrily to the Knight. 

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Soren demanded. There was no time to waste! Yet he was running a blank on what to do, Gangrel had their hands tied on even taking action against him. 

“TWO!” The Risen archers aimed precisely towards Emmeryn’s direction, earning the Exalt to step back, an armed raised in a desperate attempt of defense.

“Gods…” Chrom’s body shook terribly, his grip upon his Falchion tipping towards the ground.

“THR—”

“Gangrel, hold!” Chrom slammed his sword down towards the ground, an echo that radiated as a pin dropping into a pile of hay. All of the Shepherds that were present looked to Chrom, finding him out of breathe….defeated, “….You win.”

“Hmph!” Gangrel held his hand up, the archers lowering their stance, ready to fire at any given further order. Sweat dripped from Chrom’s temple, his panting weak and strained. The Fire Emblem rested upon his wrist and with slow determination, he removed it from his position, gripping the shield firmly in his hands.

“Everyone….lay down your—”

“ENOUGH!” Emmeryn’s shout radiated over all, earning everyone’s attention, Plegian and Ylissean alike. Even Gangrel turned, glaring towards the young Exalt. She stood towards the very edge of the cliff, looking down towards the scene at hand, continuing,

“King Gangrel, is there no hope you will listen to reason?” She demanded.

“You mean listen to more of your sanctimonious babble?! I think not.” The King sneered, stepping a step towards her direction, “No, all I want to hear now is the THUNK of the arrows, and a SPLAT as you hit the ground.”

Emmeryn remained unmoved as Gangrel continued his vicious response, “Take one, long, last look from your perch. You do so enjoy looking down on people….then prepare to meet the ground, and your maker!”

“You damn monster!” Soren snared, glaring as Gangrel ignored the threats that were beginning to spike from Ylissean troops.

“That is, unless someone were to give me the Emblem…NOW!” King Gangrel raised his hand once more, the archers ready to fire when Chrom hastily moved forward, holding the shield.

“ALL RIGHT!” Chrom shivered in his stance, now looking towards Emmeryn’s direction, “All right….Emm, I know you won’t approve, but this is my final decision. MAYBE someday we’ll face a crisis where MAYBE the Emblem would’ve helped…but I know for a fact that Ylisse needs you, TODAY! The people need their exalt…” Chrom’s sentence dropped down, “And we need our sister. If those dark days should come, we’ll face them together.”

“Chrom…” Tears spilled from Emmeryn’s face, yet, a smile began to form in their place. “Th-Thank you. I know now what I must do…”

“Emm, what are you—?”

Emmeryn took a step forward on the cliff, her stance rigid and firm, “Plegians! I ask that you hear the truth of my words! War will win you nothing but sadness and pain, both inside your borders and out. Free yourselves from this hatred! From this cycle of pain and vengeance. Do what you must…as I will do the same.”

The Exalt took another step forward, Chrom’s posture dropping and Frederick no longer able to stop the noble from dropping the sacred Fire Emblem to the ground, now making a hasty, desperate run towards Emmeryn.

“See now that one selfless act has the power to change the world!” Emmeryn declared.

“No…” Soren watched as no one dared moved, watching only as Emmeryn clasped her hands together, bowing her head forward in one last gesture. Chrom was the only one to chase against the inevitable, hoping to reach her, to stop what she was planning to do. But all it took was one step, and her body began to tilt forward.

In that silence, Soren could only watch in misery, finding his senses dizzing and growing numb to everything surrounding him. He couldn’t react as Lissa screamed in agony, clutching onto Lon’qu as the swordsmaster could only shield her from looking. Frederick stumbling off his horse as Sumia fell upon her knees, tears flooding upon her face. The look of horror that eclipsed upon all the Shepherds face was one in the same. Soren fell to his knees, finding Panne shaking his shoulders. Even the slap to the face from her sharp clawed hand was not enough to shake the tactician out of his trance, watching only as her descent finally ended.

Finally, after another slap, the sounds began to roll in into reality again, Lissa’s wailing becoming the sharpest that Soren began to focus on. He gasped for air, pressing a hand upon his heated cheek, finding it blistering and burning stronger than usual.

“Manspawn! Get up!” Panne hissed, shaking him roughly. Even from Soren’s state, he could see the tears that formed from the corner of her eyes. Soren gasped once more, slapping his own face to get a grip upon his self, focusing upon the pain once again.

“Oh gods…” Soren panted heavily, getting up with her assistance and cast his attention towards Chrom, finding the young prince kneeling beside the fallen Exalt’s body, sobbing profusely beside. He needed to act now—he needed to make sure Chrom would survive!

“Bwa ha ha ha! Well now! How disgustingly noble! And so lovely a fall! Here I thought death to be an ugly thing. I’ve never seen one fall so gracefully in fact….and I’ve seen many fall.” Gangrel’s laughter cackled in the void that was the field. No Plegians joined upon this, an awful silence having engulfed everyone.

“DAMN YOU GANGREL!” Chrom bolted from his position, ready to kill the King with his bare hands unless for Frederick’s intervention, catching the Lord by the arms and pinning him back before he could do so. “YOU DIE TODAY!”

The Mad King merely laughed in response, swinging his sword proudly, “I don’t think so—”

Before anyone could move, electricity exploded from the tops of pillars, falling and crushing the Risen archers that stood at the ready. Gangrel was quick to avoid the explosion, coughing into his cape and Frederick took the moment to force Chrom out of the way, joining by the sides of the other Shepherds. Soren grinded his teeth again, angrily ordering another round of thunder to be shot towards the Risens. Ricken and Tharja took the initiative, firing towards the pillars once more as Miriel and Soren joined forces to fire at any Plegian’s warriors that dare grow any closer.

“RETREAT! EVERYONE! GO!” Soren ordered, “We must retreat! Chrom!”

The Khans finally joined the noble, cuts and scratches endured all over their body.

“Boy! I secured an escape route! We have to flee!” Basilio ordered, shaking Chrom’s shoulder.

“B-But…her body…I have to….” Chrom’s voice dropped when Basilio grabbed both of his shoulders.

“YOU HAVE TO FLEE! That’s what you have to do!” Basilio turned to Soren, “Soren! Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid!”

Soren stared with a blank expression, carefully analyzing the pained expression that tore through Chrom, Lissa, and many of the other Shepherds. It was his fault they were suffering so much at the moment. It was his fault the plan failed, that he didn’t think it thoroughly through. It was….all…his fault. Soren clenched his teeth, but he nodded, her words ringing through his unstable mind.

_“I ask only as not the Exalt, but as a friend. Please, protect my family in my stead, they’re all I have left in this world.”_

“….You have my solemn word,” Soren responded, "Retreat!" 


	14. Call Your Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *slumps* So.......Fates is coming out. Guess who's going to be wasting her life on that?? EH? EH? 
> 
> This chapter killed my soul a bit. But that's okay. Enjoy everyone!

_“Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail.”_

_-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

_**********************************_

“Everyone! This way!” Soren’s voice boomed across the bustling, muddy terrain.

Up to now, the sky had been clear, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade was beginning to darken into a tar black. Large hanging groups of clouds were forming, blotting out the old-golden color of the sun, washing away the determination that had filled the Shepherds from the beginning. Many of the Ylisse and Feroxi soldiers were injured, killed and or left behind to die out in the Plegian desert during the retreat. The Shepherds were in no better shape, not after what happened, not after they failed.

Splatter of rain drew after the retreating army, the mud drenching and slowing down the heavily armored knights and horses. No shelter could hold back the droplets of moisture that escaped from the skies above, growing more intense. A wall of rain moved over the ravine and the drops were drumming against the puddles. So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise, overshadowing the majority of the hasty retreat.

Soren and Frederick were focused on keeping the Shepherds on the task at hand; following Basilio’s instructions. Frederick scouted from the middle to the rear end of the army, making sure the injured kept up. They were kept mostly in the middle, ready to be hastily taken away if they encountered the enemy again. Soren kept to the front, calling out orders and took the initiative when the moment called for in Chrom’s stead.

Soren exhaled, now taking a moment to scout ahead, feeling the downpour run down his face. It looked like the world itself was in wrath over the tragedy that had befallen. Pools of blood ran for miles behind the retreating army. He found a risen mound of dirt that provided enough height to see an overview of the terrain. The path was clear even from the mound of dirt Soren stood, his cloak drenched against his toned body, he was beyond apprehensive. His breath expelled into the frigid air, his eyes darting towards the Shepherds.

Running from capital to the Ylissean and Plegian borders was unbearable. Too many Plegians came upon them, making an attempt to retrieve Emmeryn’s body impossible. Donnel and Stahl had to haul Lissa away, ignoring her desperate screaming that cracked and died only after hours of wailing. Even now, her tears still flooded down her muddied cheeks. Lissa sat in front of Maribelle upon her stallion, the young duchess comforting the young princess.

Soren’s eyes darted away from Lissa, feeling his heart sink grievously. Noticing the other Shepherds condition wasn’t any easier.  Ricken was currently limping, getting help from Gregor to hastily move ahead, Vaike’s shoulder were completely bruised and even Lon’qu’s armor having been torn, cuts ranging from his face down to his arms.

The tactician’s arms trembled, feeling his breath hitch, ‘ _This was your fault, if only you had thought of a better plan_ — _stop it.’_ He inhaled through his nose, exhaling shakily and tightened his hand into a fist.

“I can’t change what’s happened, I simply need to make sure they make it out alive…” Soren swore, clenching the handle of the steel sword tightly. For now, it was up to him to make sure everyone got out of their alive.

Soren made his way back to regroup with Basilio, finding Chrom reluctantly following behind the West Khan. Chrom had not spoken a word for the past two days, his hands trembled upon the falchion. Soren knew better of his silence, his rage that boiled within his being. Soren was troubled though, the Shepherds needed Chrom more than ever and in this state he could call forth all the wrong actions. It was only a matter for Chrom to avoid looking back, to not draw his sword and kill every Plegian that crossed their path.

Behind Basilio, Chrom’s steps forward seemed to have halted while other Feroxi warriors moved on ahead of him. Soren hurried to catch over, even noticing the Khan had stopped to make sure Chrom was keeping up. Chrom unyielding, stern stance caused Soren to turn, extending a hand to Chrom’s wrist.

“Chrom, please, we need to—” Soren stopped when his hand was met with an aggressive twist of Chrom’s hand, earning a hard slap to his own wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” Chrom hissed.

Soren withdrew his hand, an alarmed expression dawning upon him. Yet it simmered away, the tactician turning away with a glare. This was not going to be easy to pull him away. There was too much anger within him—and frankly Soren wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. However Basilio strutted over, boldly standing in front of Chrom and forced a hand upon his shoulder, shaking it.

“Then move it boy! There should be carriages waiting just through the ravine!” Basilio cognizant to the young lord.

Through clenched teeth, Chrom’s tense stance staggered and his shoulders relaxed slightly. The anger that consumed his expression washed away in embarrassment, disappointment falling in its place.

“I-I’m coming—”

“AH!” Several arrows plunged into the ground as five of Basilio’s men fell to the ground, their corpses riddled with the sharpened projectiles. Soren hastily removed his tome from within his cloak, gritting his teeth as his eyes casted towards the rough terrain ahead. In the shadows of the cliffs, a small troop of Plegians stood within their paths.

“Plegians! I knew it couldn’t be that easy…” Basilio growled, “They’re right in our way! We’re gonna have to fight!”

Soren called for the Shepherds he had ordered to fight along his side should the moment come. Miriel, Stahl, Sully were the first to step forward, Gaius, Panne, and Tharja following shortly. Frederick, Virion, and Libra were busy to alert the Shepherds to follow Basilio’s route, knowing they would be much safer in a larger group.

Soren fixed his gaze upon the Plegians, finding one in specific that made himself known. He stood tall and rugged, animal skulls covering his tanned shoulders, a scar running vertically down his face, cloaked behind his beard. He held a large, red axe, curved as it it’d be easy to toss at opponents. By the way he parted through his soldiers, he could only be assumed that he was the general of this troop.

“Ylisseans! I offer you mercy!” Surrender to me now and live!” The words of the Plegian general rang across the boggy grounds, lightning echoing from not too far away. Soren gritted his teeth, surprised at this point to have encountered a Plegian, a general even, offering parlay. Alarms were set in Soren’s head however, unable to handle the idea. Chrom, his annoyance growing, moved ahead to join Basilio’s side when Soren caught his arm. Basilio scoffed in Chrom’s place, swinging his axe over his shoulder.

“Surrender? Sorry, I’m not familiar with the word.” Basilio shouted in response.

The Plegian general remained stern in his stance, his face softening momentarily, “Emmeryn would not have wished for this to come to bloodshed.”

Her name rang strangely in the air, almost violating the very thought that she had passed. The idea that she could’ve been amongst the Shepherds at this very moment, no, it was a fool’s reality. It was far too soon to mention her name. Soren caught sight of Chrom, watching his expression bubble and morph into an anger that was unlike him. He forced himself out of Soren’s grip, stepping in front of Basilio and relinquished his Falchion from its sheath.  

“Damn you….don’t speak her name!” Chrom shouted loudly. The plegian general did not move however, nodding his head from a distance.

“Your rage is justified, Prince Chrom. But the meaning of your sister’s final sacrifice was not lost on me. I suspect many Plegians who heard her final words would say the same. If you lay down your weapons, I vow to protect you as best I can.” The General promised, his words….strangely sincere.

“How can we trust you after what your barbarous king has done?” Frederick’s words rang quickly, pain striking in the group further that the tactician could imagine. “I think we shall take our chances with weapons in hand!”

Soren’s eyes darted back and forth between the two groups, his eyes widening. No, they didn’t want to fight—but they had to.

“I suspected you would say as much. So be it, Prince Chrom. I shall endeavor to grant you a swift and dignified end.” The general slammed his axe upon the ground, slamming an arm over his chest, “I am General Mustafa of Plegia. If you wish to keep your lives then you must win them!”

Chrom’s angry roar, close to a lamentation, echoed across the battlefield as he charged first. Soren snapped his attention around, ordering for Frederick, Stahl and Sully to follow after Chrom, pushing for them to keep him alive at all costs. Miriel, Panne and Gaius were close to Soren’s side while Libra, Virion and Tharja pursued from another end.

It was nothing but a blood bath that occurred moments after. The Shepherds led a full on assault against the Plegian warriors, the battle cries raging over the field. Soren charged ahead, cutting down those who charged at him, hoping to create a space where he was allowed to focus.

“Virion! Use your longbow on the Wyvern riders to your left!” Soren’s voice echoed loudly upon the field, having to focus upon all his attention on his comrades. “Tharja! The knights are drawing closer, knock them back with a Arcthunder! Gaius, guard Panne’s back so the archers don’t get a chance to hit her!”

Soren snapped his attention to his right, finding a Plegian swordsman charging hastily at him. Soren withdrew his sword, countering the wild slash. Soren crossed and stabbed without mercy into his chest, pulling back and snapping his attention around once more.

“Libra! Heal Sully and guard her while she recovers! Miriel—” Soldiers fell one by one but no matter how many fell, it seemed only more came to replace their position. Eternity was felt across the battlefield, the rain pouring so hard, as if they too were engaging in battle against the Ylisseans.

Basilio’s troops were creating a path that Chrom took charge in, not hesitating to strike down any Plegian that stood in his way. His anger was not spent, if not, it was only being encouraged on the battle field. It was only fueling his loathing towards the Plegians that were trying to further harm him and his comrades.

Explosions rang in Soren’s ear, snapping him out of his focus when he found Plegian mages casting spells towards Miriel, the mage cornered and covering behind boulders. Soren’s eyes widen, hurriedly moving across the battlefield, slashing a Plegian barbarian that attempted to block his path. No, he couldn’t afford another casualty at a time like this.

“Miriel!”

Soren threw himself forward, catching Miriel by the waist and knocked her over. Grabble and rocks exploded behind them, Soren shielding her from the blunt of the attack. Pellets of stone bombarded against his back and he could briefly feel the drawing heat that was being quickly put out by the falling rain. Hissing loudly, Soren stumbled upon his feet, catching a brief glimpse of shock emit from the normally stoic mage. He turned away, now focusing on the five Plegian soldiers that were surrounding them.

“Ar-Are you all right? Can you get up?” Questioned the tactician.

Swallowing roughly, the mage nodded, picking herself up from the mud. Soren exhaled carefully, darting his eyes around when he caught sight of the dark mage, the murderous look in her eyes targeting the enemy at hand.

“Do /not/ touch him,” Tharja’s threat jeered, holding her dark tome, “Coming forth from the sludge of hell, I summon thee, thou who art grotesque, MIRE!”

Several screams followed from the dark spell casted, many Plegian soldiers falling upon their knees as their skin oozed and bubbled, melting upon the ground itself in sickening plops. Soren gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look away upon the gruesome deaths. This war was so sickening, it was so unnecessary for all these people to needlessly die. It was what had to be done, but was it really the right thing to do?

The screaming simmered as bodies collapsed to the ground, Tharja scoffing and treading around the carcasses that were left behind.

“Thank you, Tharja,” Soren uttered, recollecting his thoughts.

The dark mage merely nodded, focusing once more upon the battle at hand. Soren returned to focus upon Miriel, finding her attention having been distracted by the current battles at hand. Most specifically, the one Chrom was intensely involved in. Combating against the enemy general all by himself—Frederick and Stahl were busy fighting off all the soldiers that came to keep them at bay. Dear god, he needed to move.

“Miriel, Tharja, cut a path!” Soren ordered immediately. Both the women shared a glance, nodding and took a stance, the ground pulsing with electricity.

“O child of lightning born of the black thunder god, roar down upon the earth!” Miriel casted, “THORON!” A bolt of lightning fired towards the enemy line, instantly killing those in its path or throwing them back. Soren cut through the opening, pulling his sword to hand.

Chrom blocked another heavy strike from the general, gritting his teeth as his feet sunk into the mud. Mustafa swung back, causing Chrom to stumble back, nearly falling over onto the ground. Soren blocked the axe, pressing his palms deeply into the blade, feeling the icy sting of the air around them press into the fresh cuts. Soren kicked him back, releasing his sword and pulled his tome, holding his hand outwards.

“Elthunder!” Soren called forth.

Bolts of electricity formed and shot towards the general, the man clearly not expecting Soren to know his share in magic. Chrom didn’t hesitate when he rushed passed, taking the moment to strike down the weakened general. His swing was wild and slashed down across his chest, sending the general hurling back, the axe falling out of his hand.

Chrom’s heavy pants ragged, his gloved palm stained red when pressed against his side. Soren joined hastily to Frederick’s side, his eyes scanning upon the young prince. Naga, he was so injured, yet he kept fighting. He wasn’t going to stop at this rate. More Plegian troops were at hand, replacing those of Mustafa’s men who decided to drop their weapons and flee.

“Come at me, Plegians! Chrom of Ylisse will be your opponent!” Chrom shouted aggressively. Many of the Plegian soldiers that charged towards Chrom’s direction were met with a swift end, Chrom’s skillful dodging still at its prime even if his wounds were beginning to take their toll.

“What’s wrong? You want my head, do you not?! THEN COME! Just as you did when you killed Emm!” Chrom egged on.

“You musn’t, Milord! We’re vastly outnumbered right now!” Frederick urged.

“Calm down, Chrom!” Soren insisted.

Chrom’s shoulders ragged as he panted, slamming the Falchion upon the ground. He was clearly out of breath, now finally taking a moment to catch his breathe.

“KHAN BASILIO!” A woman’s voice ranged from the battlefield causing Soren to tear his gaze away from the baited Chrom. It was the dancer from Regna Ferox, drenched from the rain but quick on her feet to reach the group. Reins snapped as the horses neighed and came to a halt near the group. Finally, the carriages arrived. Soren sighed in relief once the pink haired dancer removed herself from the carriage and headed to Basilio. Never has Soren seen the man smile so widely.

“Olivia! I’m sorry we kept you waiting!” Basilio informed causing the woman to sigh.

“When I didn’t hear from you, I thought…I assumed the worst.” Olivia sighed once more in relief, her eyes casting over to Chrom.

“Chrom? Soren? You remember Olivia? She’ll be smuggling us out of here.” Basilio quickly gestured between the two.

“Only if you hurry! Doubtless more of the Mad King’s men are on their way.” Olivia insisted and at the sound of that, Basilio frowned.

“Right. Pile in, you lot! And bid farewell to this Plegian hellhole.” Basilio moved towards his men, rallying them to take cover within the many carriages that came, forcing them to leave immediately once they were filled.

Soren insisted for the Shepherds that had taken injuries to head along first, that he would keep a sharp watch upon Chrom. Many wished to have stayed, but it was too obvious to know when a retreat was necessary. Slowly their numbers dwindled, their prime focus was keeping an eye out for any other Plegian forces.

Soren covered his face with his right hand, shutting his eyes carefully to clear his thoughts. So much had happened, so much blood had been spilled. He had his fair share in battles but this was by far the most gruesome of them all. Soren pressed his palm to his mouth, feelings his eyes water over the retched bile that threatened to spill out. With all of his remaining energy, he swallowed and grimaced, darting his attention over towards Chrom.

“I’ll…..I’ll crush them all!” Chrom sneered.

“Chrom!” Soren insisted, “We need to leave!”

“Tch!” Chrom hissed, his body swinging in full towards Soren’s direction. Frederick and Stahl were closest at hand to witness as Chrom came forward. “These Plegians need to pay for what they’ve caused!”

“Chrom, look at yourself. Fighting alone will solve nothing! And you suffered such grievous injuries from fighting the enemy general!” Soren tried to reason.

“I’m fine!” Chrom spat. Soren inhaled angrily. This was not the time to be so stubborn.

“Chrom!” Soren snapped, “You’re acting out of line! Your rage is completely controlling your actions!”

Chrom gritted his teeth, and for once…Soren did not see any peace in his eyes. They were filled, consumed in anger and darkness. His rage was at its peak, never to descend or calm.

“Milord, your wound is reopening!” Olivia hastily came forth, boldly ignoring Chrom’s gesture for her to stay back.

Olivia grabbed hold of his arm, tugging him towards the carriage and called out for clerics that could assist in closing the wound. Frederick and Soren remained rather surprise in place, both sharing a glance at the dramatic confidence the woman held. If he wasn’t wrong, the last time Olivia saw Chrom was that she jumped into a barrel to hide from him. Yet here she was taking command, thank Naga.

Soren let out a momentary sigh of relief, following after with Lissa, Gaius, Virion and Libra who were the Shepherds that had remained behind. Stahl and Frederick took the initiative to follow beside by horseback, ensuring extra protection for the carriage that Chrom was supposed to be in. Soren slipped inside, exhaling heavily at the lack of rain pelleting his body. His eyes darted amongst the faces around him, finding them absolutely exhausted.

“Ready?” Olivia’s voice echoed from the front, “Hold on tight!”

**********************************

The carriage ride was rough to say the least. They were packed in so closely it was almost hard to find a spot to really hold onto. Lissa’s sobs still continued to rattle louder than the carriage, burying her face into her palms. Virion was the one quietly consoling her while Libra focused upon healing Chrom’s injuries. Soren leaned to the open flap, keeping watch on any potential Plegians that would dare intercept the carriages from behind. Even with Frederick and Stahl guarding from the sides and front, they needed someone to watch from behind.

“Well this went swell.” Gaius spat lowly, “The Plegians are going to have our heads in no time at this rate.”

“If you speak in that tone, they might as well come.” Virion chided beside, narrowing his eyes, “I’d suggest we drop the matter until we have the Plegian borders and enter towards Regna Ferox.”

“We should’ve stayed and just killed them all…” Chrom uttered in the silence. Instead of the silence returning, Gaius groaned in annoyance.

“Here he goes again! He’s still whining and complaining! You can’t keep doing that you idiot.” Gaius snapped, “If you end up losing your life here, all that we’d done was for nothing—”

Oh no.

“Are you suggesting all of this was worth nothing?! That Emmeryn’s life was nothing?!” Chrom demanded viciously.

“Tch! I’m not saying it like that! Of course her life mattered—and we tried. But now that she’s gone, we need to retreat. The winner of a war is the side that survives. You hate Gangrel, and the only way to get revenge against him is to win! I’m saying you have to make choices with that in mind. This is not the time to be stubborn!” Gaius rebuked angrily.

Soren momentarily turned his position away from the outside, finding the two men glaring at each other.

“Mmm…”

“You think you can go off, get yourself killed and leave your will amongst your soldiers, upon the shoulders of Frederick, Stahl, Soren, everyone in the Shepherds?? Do you think it sounds so easy to go run off and die in /your/ position?!”

“WILL BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!” Soren turned hastily, gripping upon the back board for support. “It’s been a long day for EVERYONE. Now please, CONSIDER Lissa’s feelings, you’re only making it WORSE for her! You’re scaring her!”

Chrom hesitated, heaving heavily as his glance darted to the thief then to Lissa. Her tears had dried amongst her dirty cheeks but her arms trembled, shivering closely to Libra. Gaius remained silent, his brows furrowed together and his grip upon his handle apparent. Slowly, he crouched down on the ground, resting his palms upon his knees and exhaled heavily, shutting his eyes. Chrom panted, pressing his back against the carriage wooden boards, covering a hand over his face. Soren scoffed, turning—

He couldn’t expel any words when Virion snapped his attention over, finding his eyes widening in disbelief. Lissa’s eyes followed, her green eyes widening and a scream escaped her lips. The tactician at first thought one of his allies had been stricken, but he tensely looked down his chest, finding the metal head of an arrow pierced through his lower chest. His movement dizzyingly followed with no strength or motor skills to keep him up straight. Soren found himself tipping backwards, reaching to grab something—anything.

Soren fell upon the muddy ground, crying out when he felt the arrow splinter and shatter when he rolled. Finally coming to a stop, his head was buried within the soil and he shook violently. Soren gasped loudly, clutching his chest, protruding his fingers through his shirt. He brushed along the metal head that was still pierced in his skin, the rest of the arrow having broken apart when he collapsed onto the ground. Soren gritted his teeth, wearily looking up to find a set of feet in front of him.

“Haha! You nailed one of those Ylisseans bastards!” The Plegian forces, they managed to catch up so quickly?!

Soren coughed aggressively, looking to his side, finding his tome laying several feet away from him. Completely out of reach and leaving him completely vulnerable.

“Looks like he’s still alive though—” The cackle that followed the brute kick to Soren’s ribs caused the man to heave, clutching his stomach as a kick to his head followed momentarily after, “—not for long.”

Soren could feel his mind wrack every time he received a kick to his back. His back throbbed from each blow and he could only gasp when he attempted to fight back. It only resulted in finding his wrists stomped upon followed upon his ankles, forcing him once more onto the ground. Saliva and blood dripped from his lips as Soren coughed, his eyes rolling back.

He was going to die—no, he couldn’t die yet!

“Say nighty night, scum!” the creek of an axe being scrape and lifted echoed clearly in his ears but he could make no further attempts to move. Soren’s eyes rolled, his wrists writhed and twitched weakly. This was it….

“VIRION NOW!”

A whistle whirled through the rain, cutting across and seconds later the axe dropped beside Soren’s face, piercing into the soil. Soren’s vision blurred but he focused upon the reflection of the axe, finding an arrow had pierced through the Plegian soldiers neck, his body slumping towards the right. Hooves pounded through the terrain, and a brief moment, Soren caught sight of Chrom behind Frederick on his war horse, slashing a Plegian that dared to cross paths with him.

Grunts and shouts filled the area, following with metal clashing and the heavy torrent of rain. Soren could feel his lungs crushing underneath him as he attempted to keep consciousness, the darkness consuming his vision. He felt his body turned over, finding the blurred figures above him, reaching—

“Soren, oh gods, Soren! Stay with us!”


	15. Writing on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha....haha.....ha. 
> 
> So this chapter is extremely late and I will apologize for that. Work has been doubles and triples so I've had no life for nearly a month, hahahaha. I haven't even gotten a chance to beat Fire Emblem Fates on Hoshido side yet. I can't guarantee another chapter shall come out this month but I can promise next month I should get back to a normal schedule. 
> 
> WHELP. ENJOY THE CHAPTER. ENJOY LIFE WHILE YOU CAN.

Writing on the Wall

_A million shards of glass_

_That haunt me from my past_

_As the stars begin to gather_

_And the light begins to fade_

_When all hope begins to shatter_

_Know that I won't be afraid_

**********************************

_“Soren! Gods, we need to take him out of here! We don’t have the supplies to patch him up!”_

_“DAMN THOSE PLEGIANS!”_

_“Milord! We need to retreat—we can’t afford to keep defending out here for long!”_

_“S-Soren, please, please wake up.”_

**********************************

The heaviness rested upon his lids, his breathes exhaling frantically. He was growing conscious finally, still hearing the ghost rattling from the carriage echo in his ears. His lids flickered once, feeling weights of sand hold them shut, to prevent him from rejoining the world. Soren mustered the strength he had to force his eyes open, blinkingly wearily. Instead of finding the soaked wooden boards of the carriage, he found walls of stone surrounding him. He blinked slowly, his eyes scanning carefully, catching sight of the icy corner of the ceiling. Slowly but surely he was able to piece together his new surroundings.

“Re-Regna—” Soren coughed into his fist, clenching the sheets tightly as his whole strength winded, forcing him once more to lay utterly still. A chill crawled down his neck, his thoughts in a frenzy. He was trying to analyze, recall what had happened and where he even was at the current moment. It was almost a blur—

Soren exhaled heavily, his eyes flickering open once more. His thoughts were scattered and withdrawn. He was so close to touching them but he couldn’t clearly see it.

Soren remembered—Chrom and Gaius were arguing. His own temperament boiled over when he saw how Lissa was burying her face into Libra’s shoulder, gripping his sleeve so tightly. When he snapped, he left his guard open, he left everything open. The arrow that pierced along his chest, he thought he was a goner. He weakly traced along his chest, feeling gauze wrapped around his chest, clenching his teeth when he found the spot where the arrow had pierced him. It still was healing—gods it felt like he wasn’t going to move for a while.

Soren rolled his head back into the stiff mattress, exhaling heavily and shut his eyes forcibly, trying to recall more. When he had fallen off the carriage—from there it was a blur. The kick to his head, the beatings his body took. He had felt so useless at that moment, he felt like he was about to die…he was going to die.

Then—

“Let me check on him Maribelle. I’ll catch you and Libra soon for tea…” Soren’s eyes slowly darted towards the doorway, blinking wearily as the conversation in the hallway continued.

“Darling, please don’t cry by his bed side again.” Maribelle’s voice echoed from the outside, she must be speaking to Lissa, “We’ve already confirmed he’s going to live. You don’t have to let the waterworks spill. I swear, if he wasn’t unconscious, I would smack him upside the head for making my Lissa cry.”

“Haha….i’m sure he’d be confused if you did that, Maribelle.” Lissa’s voice sounded cracked, probably from days of crying. After all the bloodshed she had seen, Soren didn’t blame her for allowing her emotions to spill.

“It serves him right. He’s had us all worried sick, but I won’t stop you darling, try not to stay too long, okay?”

“Mhmm.”

Soren’s eyes flickered, hearing the faint steps escape from his ear shot before the door creaked open. Instead of wearing her hair up in her signature ponytail, Lissa’s blonde locks were down, curling to the center of her back. She wore a white gown in preference to her yellow dress, as if she was sleeping and she was awoken by bad dreams. Her hand gently pressed for the door to shut, turning to face Soren when she squinted.

The only thing keeping this room alit was the several candles on the opposite end of the room, masking his side in a shade that could probably give the illusion he was still asleep. He swallowed, shifting slightly in the bed. Lissa straightened at the sound and Soren took it a step forward, trying to force himself to speak.

“Li-Lissa,” His voice cracked.

“……..” Lissa froze by the doorway, her hand pressed against the door when he saw Lissa’s eyes flicker from the flames, tears creaking from the edge of her eyes. The flames detailed as her arms shook, almost resisting the urge to grasp her face and sob loudly.

“Oh gods, Soren!” She hurried to his side, hugging around his neck tightly, shaking. “You’re awake!”

Soren grunted painfully, adjusting his neck so Lissa loosened her death grip around his neck. He exhaled, returning the tender gesture by brushing her back. Lissa sniffed again, squeezing his neck reassuringly before she released her grip, her cheeks flaring red and the edges of her eyes equally as red. It seemed she had been crying for days straight, perhaps finally getting a break from all the tears. Soren felt awful to make her cry again for his sake.

“S-Sorry! I—I just got so happy to see you’re awake,” Lissa apologized profusely, “We all thought for a you weren’t going to wake up anytime soon.”

“I feel like it’s more I won’t be moving anytime soon…” Soren groaned, brushing along his chest. He pressed his hands firmly upon the mattress, attempting to sit himself up. Lissa was quick to move, pressing her delicate hands upon his shoulders, forcing him down again.

“Soren, you have to remain down. Uh—hold on! Let me get Maribelle and Libra!” Lissa’s voice strained momentarily, her eyes darting to the side. Soren quirked his lips gently, obeying to Lissa’s order as she hastily rushed out the door, all the sudden announcing loudly to ever heard that he was awake. Soren slipped underneath his covers, having a horrible feeling that all the Shepherds were going to be herding around the doorway.

Silence followed since Lissa departed from the room, earning a noticeably disturbed presence from the tactician. They were in Regna Ferox, where the grounds below would rumble from the practice of Feroxi warriors to test one’s strength. Yet there were no sounds of swords clashing below, the stomping of heavy feet in chanting, and hollers echoing. It was utter silence.

Soren grew uncomfortable over the lack of presence, curling the sheets within his hands. Preoccupying his mind for the time being was what kept him calm. To not relapse onto the crimson stained field, looking down to his palms at all the blood he had spilled. He shivered, exhaling gently. He could only wonder how long it’s been since that time. Perhaps it’s been a few days, in all honestly he hoped that was the case.

“Soren!” Soren shifted once more in his bed, earning a firm slap to his wrist, “Did my darling Lissa NOT tell you to stay still!”

“She did! She did Maribelle,” Soren slumped further in his sheets, avoiding the fierce look in Maribelle’s eyes, and observed that Libra and Lissa were standing behind her. Libra was quick to move, placing a hand upon Maribelle’s shoulder.

“Maribelle, perhaps it’s best that you and Lissa leave this to me,” Libra insisted, “I think the others should know Soren is awake and gets the time he needs to rest.”

“Gladly. If I stay any longer I’d give a good whack to Soren’s already bruised head.” Maribelle huffed, her eyes darting towards the injured male. Soren blinked slowly, reiterating her words and tone carefully. He did get kicked in the head, but that should’ve been one of the first things that got healed.

“Thank you for understanding Maribelle, I wish you both a wonderful evening.” Libra rested his palm upon his chest, bowing his head slightly forward. Maribelle smiled lightly before looking to Soren’s direction, quirking her lips.

“Do not give Libra a hard time, Soren. Lissa and I will check in on you tomorrow. Until then!” Maribelle instructed.

Maribelle took Lissa by the hand, strutting out, ignoring the other girl’s complaints to stay a bit longer. Soren tilted his head towards the door way, smiling lightly despite the circumstances he was facing. It was a pleasant sight to see Maribelle and Lissa were doing well. Though as he sat upon the thought longer, his mind began to drift towards the other Shepherds—specifically Chrom—hoping they were doing as well right now. Libra watched as the young women took off, quietly shutting the door before facing Soren, wiping his palms upon a cloth.

“How are you feeling, Soren?” Libra asked.

“Like Sully’s horse trampled me, repeatedly.” Soren answered, weakly trying to lighten the mood.

Libra smiled at the gesture, soaking a towel briefly. Instructing for Soren to sit up, he began to take off the stained bandages and Soren could only grimace from the twitch of pain that shot down his chest. The wound itself wasn’t a delightful experience either. Now that Soren was actually awake, Libra attempted to clean the wound directly. The sting of the alcohol scorched when applied and Soren aggressively grinded his teeth, hoping not to expel a sigh of discomfort. After a few minutes, Libra carefully began to reapply fresh bandages over the wound.

“Soren, do you remember anything after falling off the carriage?” Libra questioned.

Soren frowned, rubbing his cheek with the back of his palm. Now the questions were going to come forth. Soren grunted slightly, adjusting himself to properly sit up allowing the monk easier movements to wrap.

“After the Plegian kicked the side of my head, I can’t remember much, only bits and pieces,” Soren admitted, rubbing his fingers through the rough fabric.

Libra nodded slowly, “I see, it’s what I feared.”

“What happened?” Soren pressed, “Maribelle seemed to mention how everyone thought I would have died or something serious of the sorts.”

Libra frowned, tying the remaining bandages and carefully pulling the stool that drew nearby the wall.

“I’m afraid you’ve suffered from a concussion, Soren.” Libra revealed. Soren settled strangely at the idea that’s what he suffered in the midst of the attack. After all the kicking to his body, it wouldn’t surprise him that had happened.

“The kick to the head had rendered you unconscious for a few minutes when we attempted to rescue you from the Plegians. During the state, you appeared hallucinate. You couldn’t identify Lissa’s face for the brief moments when you were awake.”

“I was awake?” Soren repeated. Libra however frowned at the statement, nodding slowly.

“You were blacking out the whole way when we finally treated you in an abandon village. You couldn’t recognize anyone when we were trying to keep you conscious. When we had you settled, that’s when you completely fell asleep.”

An abandon village?

They must have been chased after the Plegians the whole way. They risked their safety hood for his own.

Soren frowned at the imagery, knowing if he had the chance to say it he would’ve ordered them to go on without him. To have risked their lives so foolishly.

“I see…” Soren frowned, gripping the sheets, “I’m sorry I let you all into danger…”

“Do not blame yourself for our own judgement Soren. We all would have risked the chances. If it wasn’t for that young woman though—”

“Young woman?” Soren repeated. His head throbbed, images flashing.

_“Milady, by yourself?” Frederick’s voice echoed, the hailstorm thundering against the ground. Drops bombarded against his limped head, drips of water trailing down his flickering eyes. His head was ponding so much, it hurt to stay awake this long. He wanted to keep his eyes shut, he wanted to descend into the sweet embrace the darkness had to offer._

_Soren’s head drooped, his right arm being supported around Stahl’s shoulder, his waist being hoisted by Gaius. He glanced to the side—finding the masked Marth. Her navy hair clung to the back of her cape, her face shielded by the butterfly masked they’ve encountered over and over again. She was speaking to Chrom—blood dripping down the tip of her sword._

_He reached forward—_

“Marth….” Soren realized slowly, connecting the dots as Libra nodded in agreement.

“I believe that was her name, yes. I’ve been fairly updated on the news amongst the Shepherds so at the time I did not know. She had come by Naga’s grace, giving us the passageway we needed to escape from the Plegian forces.” Libra explained.

“She fought them herself?” Soren asked, bewildered.

“She only bid us time before she moved elsewhere. Where else? I’m not quite entirely sure.” Libra admitted, rubbing his chin, “she didn’t seem to be taking them on…it seemed a Plegian mage ended up assisting her. (The night was rather confusing honestly).”

“…..” Soren frowned, his eyes casting towards the sheets once more, unable to meet the war monk’s gaze. He felt rather awful, even if he knew deep down that none of the events that occurred was in his control. He felt so powerless…he could only imagine how the others were feeling. To be as equally involved to allow the tragedy to occur.

“Ahh….and there is another concern….”

“I’m assuming it’s beside the wounds I’ve already sustained, isn’t it?” Soren guessed, beginning to recognize the concerned look whenever Libra’s brows furrowed together, his lips tightening and his clear eyes sharpening. Soren was glad that Stahl began to share his tips on analyzing faces.

“Yes. I know I have only joined the Shepherds recently but something has drawn my concern. You have never believed in the Grimleal’s faith, have you?” Libra directly questioned.

Soren frowned, the name bouncing along in his subconscious, recalling the late night within Regna Ferox when he was trying to further discover his forgotten past. The fanatic Plegian religion that worshipped the Fell Dragon, Grima. They had waged war against the followers of Naga’s for millennials. Why would Libra suddenly bring this up?

“No, I haven’t. If I had been, it’s probably forgotten for good along with the rest of my past.” Soren explained, causing the monk to hum.

“Ah yes, you experience amnesia, even now. Then I suppose this will come to you as…some news.”

Soren raised a brow as Libra coughed gently, crossing towards the other side of the room towards the desk where the candle flickered. Pulling open a draw, he withdrew a thin book, flipping through the pages. He returned back to the stool, his delicate fingers skipping through pages that seemed all to carry penciled sketches on each one.

“Unfortunately, I had to draw a sketch of it, considering there’s not many mirrors in Regna Ferox I’ve come to discover. Maribelle let out an awful screech one morning due to it. I’m sorry if it looks rather rough,” Libra apologized.

“I can only imagine. Maribelle always wants to keep up with her appearance.” Soren chuckled softly yet it died in his throat when he caught Libra’s expression drop slightly.

Soren swallowed, prepared for whatever it could be. If it was his hand, then that was nothing he had already known about. Libra finally stopped flipping, his fingers brushing along the parchment. He didn’t utter another word, merely handing out the sketchpad for him. Soren blinked slowly, analyzing the paper.

It was himself, immobilized upon the bed, the rough sketch of his face immersed in a past pain. Trailing past his face, he was focused upon the drawing upon his back. Trailing from his upper most shoulder blades down to his hips, four tattooed wings tucked themselves upon one another. The ink darkened along the lesser converts, eerily reminding him of Nowi’s own leathery wings, shining and extending off into an eteral extension. He noted the smaller detail amongst the feathers that brushed towards the ends, noting how strange these markings were. He could feel his own spine stiffen, now recognizing he’s never taken much time to for look at himself in a mirror. He had a tattoo upon his back of this scale?

Libra continued, “I recognized the markings on your hand as a sign of the Grimleal, but I wasn’t sure if you had known about the one upon your back.”

“No, I hadn’t at all,” Soren briefly turned his attention to Libra, “Does this mean anything as well?”

Libra rubbed his chin, his lips quirking downwards, “Not that I am aware of. There’s not many documentations upon the Grimleal culture and systems, even though we study it to an extent as a part of our teachings of Naga.”

_Great._

Soren rubbed his face, groaning softly upon the new information. Not only did he have to be careful for his own sake, but now the issue of his past seemed to be arising once more. He had hoped he had pushed his doubts away from before but it seemed fate had a funny issue with bringing it back up.

Soren settled in the silence when Libra excused himself to return the notepad in the drawer. Soren sighed, running a hand through his locks. So much was going through his mind and he couldn’t prioritize which was more important. The fact the Shepherds had hopefully made it all in one peace, now to prepare a nation for its loss of their precious Exalt, Chrom—

Soren winched when he thought about how the prince was holding up right now. Chrom, he only hoped to Naga that he was doing as well as Lissa was doing. He could only imagine he was handling the situation much more privately. Or worse, gods, Soren didn’t want to imagine it any longer. He needed to go find him, he needed to talk to him. If he imagined how he was right now, it was going to be unsettling for the battles to come. He needs his friends, he needs their encouragement and words of kindness.

“Libra, how’s Chrom?” Soren questioned hastily.

"Ah, yes, Lord Chrom," Libra's frown made Soren uneasy. It was holding a lot more than he was letting on. Soren gripped the blanket, sitting up straighter.

"Where is he?" Soren pressed.

"Currently he's pacing within the corridors of chamber room of the Khans. Frederick and a few others are with him, unable to get sleep from all that's occurred. Unfortunately, he hasn’t spoken to anyone since we’ve returned. He’s…..rather withdrawn.” Libra answered regretfully. 

"I see..." Soren lingered on his sigh, throwing off his sheets, "I need to get up Libra, please. I need to speak to him."

"But your wounds—they still haven't properly healed!"

Libra was on his feet now when Soren pulled the rest of the sheets off his sored body, grimacing at the strain he was going to anticipate. Soren gripped upon the wooden framing, gritting his teeth aggressively. His shoulders tensed and he inhaled deeply, trying to pour his thoughts away from the pain. He stood rigidly, not daring to take the chance to make his way across the room. It was too much—he knew where to put his foot down.

"Which is why I'm asking for your help. I rather not get up myself and take the chances of having them open up again.” Soren explained.

Libra remained quiet, settling his hand upon the back of his sketchbook. A distant expression

Libra sighed, "Very well. Give me your arm."

**********************************

The halls radiated only the heavy steps of the two men as Libra held one of Soren’s arms firmly around his neck. Pins and needles rattled his movements, reassured that the tall war monk was assisting in his rehabilitation. Libra had warned him that it would take at least two weeks before he would be able to join into combat again. The idea had troubled the tactician, considering he had joined in every single fight thus far into this war. Perhaps if time permitted, he’d join in the final fight against Gangrel, but until he speaks to Chrom he wouldn’t ponder too long upon it.

What mattered was to focus ahead.

The walk down the hall was longer than he expected, hoping to have reached the chamber room already. However, he heard an angry disarray spilling into the hallway. Soren lifted his eyes up, finding doors slamming into the walls, Basilio hastily following an extremely agitated Flavia as she cursed upon one of the councilmen in the room. The councilmen didn’t dare approach after her considering her hand was tightly gripped upon the handle of her crimson sword. Even Basilio didn’t dare get close to her, following closely along the wall.

“So what now, oaf?” Flavia’s voice echoed.

“Don’t look at me—I’m not in charge!” Basilio barked back.

“Khan Flavia, Basilio!” Soren called out, earning the mighty swordsman to stop in her tracks, whirling hastily around. She squinted, before angrily sheathing her sword away.

“Well, it’s a damn relief to see you’re finally awake!” Flavia huffed, resting her knuckles against her hips.

“What happened?” Soren pressed, already feeling his responsibilities returning upon his shoulders. Flavia groaned, rubbing her temples in circles.

“Things I rather forget about right now—I picked a fine time to regain the full throne.” She retorted in annoyance. Basilio moved a foot away from the woman, a weary expression now resting on his face. He turned to face Soren, offering a quirk of a smile.

“It’s good to see you’re up. Maybe you can snap some sense into Chrom. The boy hasn’t said much since you’ve been out.” Basilio informed Soren, much to the tactician dismay. It seemed what Libra had mentioned was sound.

“I will,” Soren answered with a nod.

“Then follow us, we’re heading that way anyways.”

Basilio gestured with a wave of his arm, continuing forth down the hallway. Soren eyed Libra briefly and the monk nodded, supporting him once more as they continued to travel down the hallway. The hallways seemed to radiate with movement here, the faint sounds of armor shifting and clashing against the floor. Something else however seemed to catch Soren’s attention far more. Advancing further down the halls, conversations begin to arise faintly. Growing closer, he was able to start picking out the lamenting conversations that followed.

“I should have died before allowing the Exalt to be captured. I have failed as knight…”

“We’ve all failed as knights today….”

“Captain Phila…oh gods…”

“She’s gone…they’re all gone.”

The moans and questions that echoed in the halls made Soren that much more sick. He just wanted to hunch over and bury himself into the ground. He had failed. He failed when they needed him most. Soren briefly pushed away Libra’s assistance, gritting his teeth as he took his first step forward without the assistance. His legs ached but he persisted to head down the hall into the throne room. He was met with at first weary glances but they grew stunned as they seemed to have recognized the tactician. Sumia’s redden eyes had lifted up from her palms, Frederick resting her hand upon her shoulder to keep the woman from tipping over in shock. Cordelia, Virion, and Stahl were speaking to one another at another end, also growing alarmed to find the tactician to be up.

Soren kept walking past his allies, his close friends, to find Chrom’s upon the steps of the throne, a hand shielding over his eyes, his elbow resting upon his knee. The Fire Emblem was positioned a few steps below him, glinting faintly. Soren briefly eyed the shield maliciously, recalling how it was the cause of which Emmeryn had rather jumped for. To give up her life for something that could potential save the future—Soren surely knew he’d never understand, but he had to respect her final wishes.

Soren closed his eyes, sighing softly. Now that he was here—he was unsure of what to say to Chrom. After all the tragedy that befell after the past few weeks, it felt heavy upon his shoulders. He was supposed to lead the army to success, not into a pitiful defeat.

“Chrom…” Soren spoke softly. He was surprised to find the prince move his hand away to meet his gaze, finding his navy eyes to be fashioned steel, reflecting no emotions but sorrow. Chrom remained silent and Soren couldn’t swallow his guilt enough to even meet the prince’s gaze, “Chrom, I’m…I’m so sorry. My plan just wasn’t enough…”

“You did your best, Soren….you have my thanks." That was the blade that twisted in Soren’s stomach as he stood up, hearing Chrom lament about how his own failures would haunt him.

“It’s not your fault either, Chrom!” Soren pressed. Chrom teeth gritted tightly, standing tall over Soren causing the tactician to stagger a step back, rather alarmed by the viciousness that replaced the grief.

“She did it for me!” Chrom barked, “So that I wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of either choice, she chose for me. She sacrificed herself rather than give up what could one day save her people!” Chrom exhaled heavily, his face reddening.

“….Gods….why couldn’t she be selfish….why…..” The hot tears that began to spill down his face startled the tactician. He didn’t expect to see Chrom break down like this…but after all…he lost his sister. He was only human.

“Chrom…” Chrom forced himself to sit down, shielding his face as he rubbed his arm against his face vigorously, the hot tears spilling down his bandaged arms. Soren settled his running mind, gritting his teeth when he slowly knelt down, winching from the strain in his chest when he finally sat down a step lower then Chrom. He turned to face Chrom who attempted to avoid his gaze.

 “Chrom, listen to me. Look at me.” Soren said firmly. It was a few moments before Chrom could even meet his gaze and Soren swallowed what other pain he was feeling. He needed to reassure Chrom—he needed to know he wasn’t alone.

“I was powerless once, too, remember?” Soren began, “And yes, alone, lost, confused. I don’t think either one of us is half of the person your sister was. But together…maybe we can be something more.”

Chrom lifted his gaze fully, his brows scrunching together while Soren continued to choose his words carefully, “If you fall, I’ll be there to pull you back up. When you fight for your sister’s ideals, I’ll be by your side. You don’t have to become your sister, you know. You can still be true to yourself. You just have to give people hope in whatever way you can.”

“And what if I can’t?” Chrom agonized, “What if I’m not worthy of her ideals—Soren, what if I drag you and everyone down with me?”

Soren swallowed, finding his own eyes beginning to sting, threatening to fall as Soren shut his eyes, sighing heavily. He rested a palm upon his comrade’s knee, gazing up sternly to him.

“If you aren’t worthy, you’ll keep at it until you are. That’s who you are Chrom. And if we both fall down, well, that’s what friends are for….right?”

The air tensed as Chrom inhaled, his eyes shining once again but he clenched his teeth.

“That’s right!” Then men turned seeing Nowi join them a few steps away, smiling wearily, “I wouldn’t even be here if not for you guys!”

“Nowi….” Chrom attention averted to her left as Tharja swayed to her side, nodding gently and Lon’qu joined upon

“You gave me your trust, and now you have mine.” Tharja joined, though her eyes snaked its way to Soren, smirking. “For the time being.” Soren shot back a look that he hoped delivered the message ‘Don’t start it.’

 “Were you unworthy, I would have left long ago.” Lon’qu added as many of the other Shepherds joined as well.

“It took great courage and charisma to unite all of us. I knew I possessed such talents but clearly you do as well.” Virion, not the time.

“Yeah. We all look up to you! You’re like a hero to us.” Ricken piped with Donnel sniffing, nodding in agreement. Chrom looked amongst all the new faces, wiping his eyes one final time before exhaling lowly. A faint smile began to emerge upon his face, pained but relief could be felt from the change of mood. Chrom patted the back of Soren’s hand, taking a rigid stance before his fellow Shepherds.

“Thank you, everyone. Your words mean more than you could know. My Shepherds…warriors and friends…There is work to be done. Gangrel must be stopped so that peace can once again reign in Ylisse. Will you help me?” Chrom requested.

“Yeah,” Sumia joined by Frederick side, holding onto the tall man’s shoulder, “I’m tired of crying, it’s time we start snapping some sense back!”

“So you meaning punching stuff, right?” Sully teased, lighting the pegasus’s knights brightly as she probably recalled punching Chrom in the face, “But hell yeah, gladly would I fight and KILL those dastards for House Ylisse!”

An array of agreements followed as Chrom smiled lightly, smiling for the first time in weeks. “Thank you all. Truly. You honor me with your fealty. I will not falter again. We shall answer this outrage! The Mad King must be stopped!”

The Shepherds shouted loudly in agreement, gathering a crowd of Feroxi warriors and Ylisse soldiers.

“Right! It’s time for ol’ Gangrel to get a dose of his own vulnerary! The whole of the Feroxi army is yours to send crashing against him!” Flavia slammed a hand upon Chrom’s shoulder, grinning.

“Har! You young folk—your passions run so hot! If I had gray hairs, you would’ve singed ‘em right off. In other words, count me in!" Basilio burst into a hearty laugh. Olivia made her way through the Shepherds, stepping a few steps away from Chrom. Soren darted his eyes briefly between the two, letting himself down the steps to join by Libra’s and unwillingly Tharja’s side.

“I’d like to go too, if I may. The exalt did me a kindness once.” Olivia confessed.

Chrom seemed surprised by the revelation, “Really?”

“Y-Yes, sire. It would honor me to have part in giving her justice! Although all I can do is dance…and I’m not so skilled at that if we’re being honest…” Olivia began to blush brightly with Basilio laughing at the sight.

“Har har! She’s too modest! Olivia is a Feroxi treasure. You won’t meet a finer dancer in the all the realms! Her moves inspire soldiers to work twice as hard! You’d do well to bring her along, Commander. Not to also mention she’s not bad with a sword.” Basilio boosted, causing the dancer to blush darker, covering her face with her hands.

“Commander? What happened to boy?” Chrom teased lightly as Basilio smirked in retaliation.

“You’ve earned your way up from that name, I think. Now where were we? Oh yes! I was just about to start cracking skulls! Flavia will lead me and the other Feroxi in a head-on assault. That should buy you enough time to take down Gangrel. You get the fun time boy!”

“Hey—I thought that nickname was done—” Basilio grinned cheekily, earning Chrom to sigh briefly, smiling faintly.

“You and Soren have my every confidence. You’re a born leader, and he has a knack for guiding troops to victory. You both have some growing to do yet, but I can already see you’ll grow tall.” Basilio complimented.

“Thanks Basilio.”

“ALL RIGHT, ENOUGH TALK. IT’S TIME TO RAISE SOME HELL!”

“Let’s get to it, then! Gangrel may try to hit us while we’re still licking our wounds.”

“Let him try! This time I’m ready to dethrone the Mad King, once and for all!”


	16. Under the Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two months since I've updated this story. I'd like to say NO I'm not dead.
> 
> Unfortunately I've been dealing with transferring to another property to further my career and it has taken a toll on my health a bit. So this chapter suffered a bit more on that. Chapters will resume once more, now that we've hit the first arc of the story. Yes, there's gonna be arcs. Probably just two like how it is in the game. 
> 
> BUT NEVERTHELESS! 
> 
> I apologize for the delay of this chapter, hoping readers will enjoy the content below and the filler chapters I've been cooking up. I can not wait to get those up. I'm excited, yo. 
> 
> Bwahahahha, anyways. This is going to be fun so I hope you all enjoy and stick around! Until next time!

**********************************

_Si vis pacem, para bellum_

“If you want peace, prepare for war.”

**********************************

Days had passed since the declaration of war against Plegia. Regna Ferox became the headquarters for not only the Shepherds, but resistance groups from Ylisse that had been battling the Plegian forces since Emmeryn’s passing. Chrom had no ways to lead his troops in Plegia so spies and mercenaries alike that were in favor of Ylisse passed messages to his troops that combated along the western borders, pushing back the enemy as best they could.

It was a trouble at first but once a system was in order, moral seemed to drive the Ylisse army into success every battle. It goes to show that even if Soren wasn’t exactly participating in the battle, that his tactics were sound and efficient, leading to minimum to no causalities in the battles that have ranged.

“GAH!”

The sounds of hundreds of men thundered across the barren desert. Swords sparked and stroke as fiercely as lightning, all being led by Chrom and the Shepherds that volunteered. This battle, like the many before it, was all staged and caught the enemy line by surprise leading to either mass surrenders or resistance such as the battle occurring below.

“Chrom! To your left!”

Through the masses, the Ylissean heard and spun elegantly, the Fire Emblem shielding his arm from an attack. Chrom had carried the shield now to every battle he stepped forth on. He couldn’t allow it to be taken and with no gems in its chambers, the golden shield was able to handle the attacks. Chrom countered the attack, slicing down the enemy before calling forth the remaining troops to handle the few Plegian left.

A sigh of relief exhaled from the male, a smile forming upon his lips. With renewed determination, Chrom became the leader that everyone needed. It hasn’t exactly been a field of roses, but Chrom strives for peace in his own way. Chrom began pushing forth his sister’s policy for peace, but unfortunately at times as such, action had to be taken—

 “Yo, Bubbles, still there??” Gaius tapped his knuckles against Soren’s noggin, earning a displeasing side glance from the tactician. “You’re scaring me buddy, spacing out there.”

“I was studying everyone’s battle tactics on the field without my immediate assistance,” Soren chided. Gaius rolled his eyes at that, retracting his hand before Soren attempted to slap it away. Gaius was still playful as ever, now gaining slow respect from Soren, even though the man was convinced he owed Soren something.

“Always working, even when you were told—specifically by Maribelle—that you shouldn’t even be on the field until this war is over.” Gaius remarked, causing the tactician to frown. The image of Maribelle lecturing to Soren for a solid hour on the disciplinary actions she would inflict upon him if he returned with another massive injury.

“Gaius, it’s nearly impractical of that happening,” Soren said, “And beside, I’m not on the field—I’m merely observing it.”

Miles from the fight at hand, Gaius and Soren watched the battle from a hill afar, sending in necessary troops and cutting off the reinforcement for the Plegian army. Gaius, growing bored of having been specifically chosen to stay with Soren for this, seemed to be pursuing teasing Soren for his own entertainment.

“You sound like an annoyed teacher—like Frederick when Virion can’t do a push up in the morning.” Gaius exaggerated Virion’s weak attempts to do a push up, his arms barely able to even bend slightly forward. Soren smirked lightly, recalling how annoyed Frederick grew, watching the corner of his lips twitch and his fingers readying for the axe at his side.

“Not annoyed—VAIKE! WATCH IT!” Soren slammed a tome to his face, cursing loudly as he was unable to handle watching Vaike blindly moving across the field. There were some that he knew he could trust to move without question. Frederick and Sumia following easily conquered the field, Chrom could easily handle it with Gaius and or Sully. Even Olivia, the dancer who really did have a hand for the sword could easily sway into a style for the battle.

Yet Vaike….. _Vaike._

 “Hey, don’t worry. You put Mister Super Swordsman with him, remember?” Gaius slapped his shoulder firmly, earning a slight wince from the tactician.

Even the slightest touches sent sharp pains down his body. It’s why Soren had opted (along with Chrom’s heavy persuasion) to stay out of direct combat for the remainder of the war. It goes well, almost unnoticed that Soren was even injured—until Sully slaps him across the back after howling in laughter from his own snarky comments. Sprawling in pain is an understatement to what could’ve happened with all the raw power Sully has.

Soren rubbed his shoulder gently while Gaius flashed an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Bubbles,” Gaius apologized, “Padre probably would’ve scold me for the eighth time I’ve done that.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I can easily take his place.” A shiver ran down Soren’s spine, unlike the pain, he could already feel the temperature drop and he wished to all might to turn around. Sharp nails traced along the nape of his neck, tracing down his exposed skin to the fabric of his sleeves. Tharja swayed beside the tactician, the emerald glow of her tome fading and turning blank. Gaius seemed to mirror Tharja’s unamused expression she wore.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sunshine. I didn’t mean to injure your preccccciouuuus.” Gaius smirked cheekily, leaning forward while Tharja scoffed, slapping his chest lightly. Soren darted his eyes between the two, stepping ever so carefully to the side to slip away from Tharja’s touch. With Gaius being here, Tharja’s attention was normally distracted from him, something Soren was thankful the thief purposely did to give him air to breathe.

“Enough you two, we need to focus on the battle at hand.” Soren said, catching their attention.

“Aww, c’mon Bubbles. We were just having some fun—hold up!” Gaius popped his lollipop into his mouth, Tharja smoothly stepping to the side, the flare of her tome tripping several Plegians back and allowed Gaius to move swiftly, cutting down each that tumbled. Sore blinked slowly, Tharja checking her nails in the meantime when Gaius straightened himself and flicked his sword to the side.

“Okay, go ahead.”

“Focus on the battle, you know, the one that’s surrounding us right now,” Soren gestured towards the moaning and silenced body of the Plegians that Gaius had handled. Gaius looked side to side, shrugging.

“Relax. It’s pretty much over. You’re so controlling,” Gaius teased, resting an arm upon Soren’s shoulder.

“I’m not controlling,” Soren countered, his nose twitching.

“Yeah, you are. It’s in your job description pretty much. If Blue wasn’t the Prince of Ylisse, you’d basically be the one with a crown on your head.” Gaius continued, his smirk practically glued on his face.

Soren resisted rolling his eyes, gritting his teeth at how much he wished to stuff his tome at his face to block off that smirk.

“As much as I would hate to disagree, Gaius is right.” Tharja stepped to Soren’s side, gesturing a hand towards the battle field. “The majority of this army is retreating as we speak.”

Soren turned to face the open war field, finding the numbers had drastically dwindled from the staggering thousand to merely 50 soldiers at best trying to hold their ground. Soren blinked, humming softly at the circumstances. It had been a rumor up to this point in time where spies had reported seeing mass amount of the Plegian armies dropping their weaponry and retreating. To see such a great amount of warriors simply giving up—it was astonishing.

Soren reached a few feet to the edge of the cliff side, his coat flapping back from the gust of wind. How was it possible that the Plegian army was giving up so easily? To drop their weapons and run, chanting something along the way. Soren’s eyes fixed upon the retreating soldiers, briefly catching a flapping dress in front of—?!

Soren’s eyes casted to the edge of the cliff, finding a transparent figure before him, her green robes flapping briefly in the wind. Her golden hair was no longer bounded together in their curls, flowing gently to the side as she turned to face Soren.

“Emmeryn?” Soren breathed, catching the ghost of her smile.

“Soren?” Tharja’s voice caught Soren’s attention, forcing him to look from the ghostly figure of Emmeryn, finding Tharja and Gaius were both staring at him. He flushed lightly, spinning back on his heel to the cliff side. Emmeryn no longer was there, the warmth and light replaced with a breeze of cold air. Soren inhaled sharply, almost tempted to question out loud if anyone else had seen her.

_Emmeryn….it was you, wasn’t it?_

Soren gazed up towards the sky, letting out a small sigh. _I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, please, forgive me if you can. I know you probably would. I’ll keep our promise Emmeryn, I’ll watch over your sister and brother with my life. You have my word._

“I’m okay, just thinking,” Soren apologized, smiling softly to the duo who shot each other strange looks, “Come on, let’s head down to meet with Chrom and the others.”

**********************************

Down into the sand dunes, passing by the bodies of those Plegian that had fallen and the Ylissean soldiers that were properly digging graves in their honor. Some dared not touch them, but you could see upon the looks of others that everyone deserved to be properly laid to rest. Crossing into the temporary rest spot for the Ylissean army, Soren crossed over the laid weapons and moved around the injured who were being tended by Maribelle, Lissa, and Libra, even Olivia and Sumia assisted with wrapping injuries, putting soldiers at ease. Soren smiled lightly at the fact no one was gravely injured, catching a brief wave from Vaike whose shoulder had been cut into and Lon’qu was insisting for the idiot to bandage himself.

Soren cut across the camp, his mind focusing on the objectives ahead. They were less than a day’s march to confront Gangrel’s army. At the rate they were heading, they’d probably confront each other in less than a few hours. He had to make sure everyone had the mentality for what was to come—he had to make sure Chrom was ready. Finally, Soren stopped by the edge of the camp, finding Chrom sitting upon a boulder, overlooking the vast desert ahead of them. His gear had been removed and his cape was tucked underneath the Fire Emblem.

“Chrom, there you are,” Soren patted Chrom’s shoulder and sat beside the young lord, resting his arms on his raised knees. “Needed time to think?”

Chrom shook his head, his azure eyes relighting with awareness and met Soren’s gaze.

“Yeah, kind of….trying to wrap my head around everything.” Chrom admitted, stretching out his right leg, leaning his weight towards the left. Soren hummed softly, bridging his fingers together on his knee, tapping his thumbs against the fabric.

“A lot has happened in the past weeks…” Soren acknowledged with Chrom nodding in agreement, “too much I’m afraid.”

“I know…” Chrom’s stoic expression slowly wore off and he turned, resting a firm hand upon Soren’s shoulder, squeezing lightly, “but we’re going to end this war. We’re going to return peace to both Plegia and Ylisse.”

“You know, it’s going to take a few years to rebuild everything?” Soren reminded as Chrom smiled, nodding.

“With your help, along with all of our friends, we’ll be able to handle it.” Chrom said.

Soren smiled at the reassurance, noting how much Chrom has grown within the past few weeks. It was a good change after such a harsh event that would affect not only him but his sister as well. He was now to be in charge of their halidom, he was going to have to earn the respect of his people. Slowly but surely, Soren knew he would be able to do such a thing.

“Exactly, we’re not leaving your side anytime soon—unless the council freaks out that there’s Plegians, thieves, a mankete, taguel, roaming about uncontrollably.” Soren teased earning Chrom to scoff, repressing from laughing at the scenario.

“Of course they would. They’d deem it ‘an atrocity to the halidom’s safety’ or something like that,” Chrom waved in such a mocking gesture, Soren couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “Besides, when we go back, I need to reform the system, there’s many things that need to be changed.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to handle that?” Soren asked.

“I will be King, and I’ve seen how these men act when Emmeryn wasn’t around. I know who can stay and who needs to find a new occupation.” Chrom insisted, taking a stance from the sand bed. Soren had to crane his neck slightly to meet his gaze.

“And you know who you’ll be able to replace for them?” Soren asked again.

“Ah—” Chrom paused, rubbing his chin as Soren’s shoulders dropped, already having a feeling there was going to be a lot of work and reading to be done. Maribelle was probably going to have to help the both of them, since this is her area of expertise after all.

_‘Chrom, no matter what. We’ll be two halves of a great whole. Don’t worry, I have your back.’_

“Milord,”

Chrom and Soren paused, turning to find the stoic knight awaiting to approach. When Chrom briefly gestured, Frederick crossed over to them, gesturing for Soren to take a folded compliment of papers he had tucked away. Soren nodded in thanks, cutting the string that held them together and began to open them while Frederick verbally began the report.

“Milord, I’ve a report from Khan Flavia, the Plegian army is in disarray.” Frederick began.

“How do you mean?” Chrom pressed, now reaching to reequip his sheathe onto his body.

“It seems many of their soldiers are opposed to further violence. There has been infighting, desertion…”

“Mass soldiers dropping their weapons and just leaving….” Soren acknowledged, “It’s what happened in this battle as well.”

“Precisely. Gangrel is trying to stamp out the mutiny by force, but with little success. Outside of a few faithful who serve him directly, his army has all but collapsed.” Frederick finished. Chrom’s reaction was surprisingly slow, allowing for the news to sink in.

“This is incredible news…” A smile developed upon Chrom’s face but slowly, it contorted, his gloved hand reaching to rub his jaw, “But why……”

It grew silent between the three, Soren and Frederick sharing the same knowing glance. At first Chrom didn’t catch on, but slowly darting his eyes between the two soldiers then to the Fire Emblem that bound to his wrist, he knew—

“Emmeryn,” Chrom concluded.

“The report says Gangrel’s men chant her name as they abandon the field. Her words, and her sacrifice have made her a folk hero of sorts.” Frederick acknowledged.

“Sister…..why did it take me so long to understand?” Chrom rubbed his face tenderly, exhaling lightly, “She believed all people desire peace. She knew the Plegians wanted it too, it just took her sacrifice to bring it to the surface…I hope she can see this, wherever she is now.”

Chrom turned to face the valley, watching the assembling armies gather and reequip, the clerics on their feet to help those who had been injured. It was lucky that no other deaths had occurred, saved for those on the enemy lines. There was nostalgia riddling the air, Chrom’s back faced towards the soldiers—his people. Soren watched carefully, remembering Emmeryn by the cliff, watching over all. Chrom, you may think you won’t be able to honor your sister’s memory…but you will.

Chrom turned to face the two, his face renewed with resolve.

“Today, we put an end to Mad King Gangrel and bring peace back to the land.” Chrom declared, “Once and for all.”

**********************************

Hours passed while the group marched to the Plegian and Ylisse border. It was fair to say the battle ahead was to be the final one. They had prepared everyone as best they could, told them the plans and formulated them into the teams for the optimal success. Even now, Soren insisted to not skip this battle, knowing the Shepherds were going to need him on the battlefield to guide them to success. Even after Maribelle yelled in his ears to reconsider, they knew he would ultimately make his way on the field. With Virion, Stahl, Sully, Gaius, and Tharja by his side, they should be able to handle what was ahead.

Chrom and Soren stayed close as they lead the army, drawing closer towards the border. In the distance, Soren caught notice of a line of warriors, Gangrel’s army. The army nearly rivaled in the amount of soldiers that the Ylissean and Feroxi warriors had, despite all the soldiers that abandoned the cause. Soren’s lips pressed together finding Chrom forcing his way to the front of the line. Out of the corner of Soren’s eye, he could see Frederick and Sumia ready by his side, Cordelia, Lon’qu and Vaike guarded close behind. Even Olivia stood readily, a steel sword held carefully positioning herself between Lon’qu and Chrom.

The day couldn’t be any more perfect, clouds drifting in the sky, indicating a storm was likely approaching. Soren exhaled, hoping everything would go into plan. That Flavia and Basilio’s teams would be able to handle on the daunting task of taking the Plegian capital.

It was time, it was time to end this.

From across the field, Soren could catch sight of the Plegian army approaching, led by a familiar flamboyant leader. Gangrel stepping forth on top of a raised hill, a wicked grin burned on his face. Dressed still in his regal attire, a sword rested at the side of his hip, radiating bits of electricity earning Soren’s curiosity. What in the world kind of weapon is that…?

“Good morning, princely, still dreaming of your squashed sister?” Gangrel’s laugh echoed through the barren desert. Chrom did not let his anger rise, merely lifting the Falchion towards Gangrel’s direction.

“No more talk, Gangrel. Today you die, and peace returns to both Ylisse and Plegia.” Chrom announced.

“Pah! Such hypocrisy!” Gangrel flaunted his hand, scoffing loudly, “You despise me, wretch! You want to cut me down! You don’t know the first thing about peace. No man does!”

“I know more than you ever will!” Chrom bellowed.

“More than me? More than ME?!” Gangrel’s laugh echoed, “Bwa ha! You /are/ me!” Chrom tsked, narrowed his eyes as Gangrel continued his rant, “When life asks you a question, you answer with blood!”

Chrom gritted his teeth and Soren could tell the pain that Chrom was going through. He could see it with his muscles tightening, his teeth clenching. Remembering that this was the man that killed his sister. He could only hope that Chrom doesn’t let it consume him. It was a brief moment of tense silence and Chrom seemed to finally let a slow exhale part his lip. Chrom settled the Falchion by his side, taking a bold stance forward.  

“Maybe you’re right…I will never be my sister. I cannot forgive men like you—men who sow nothing but evil. All I have left of her are words, and her memory. Where I alone, I might be driven to madness…” His eyes laid upon Gangrel, frowning, “Or worse.”

Chrom took another step forward, his stance unyielding as he gestured behind him, “But I’m not alone. My friends and brothers-in-arms stand behind me.”

Soren smiled appreciatively as the whole Ylissean army shouted in agreement, sending a booming echo across the field.

“Are you done? May I vomit now? Bwahaha! What a flowery harangue!” Gangrel declared, faking a gag, “Men are beasts! Nothing more! We fight! We kill! We devour our prey! Beasts do not stand behind beasts, little prince. They use each other only so long as it suits their own selfish purpose.”

“Perhaps this explains why your own soldiers refuse to stand behind you!” Chrom shot back, now taking a stance, “You are a poison. A festering wound. And I will do what my sister could not.”

“Such a clever tongue you have, little price…it will look quite fetching hanging on my mantle, next to your sister’s corpse!”

Soren inhaled, the whispering behind him growing, asking and waiting for the command. Soren looked immediately to Chrom, knowing he was waiting, using his own tactics in order to give Soren the advantage. Gangrel led his warriors into the battle while their own remained stationary. It was getting close, Chrom was waiting for the perfect moment.

That’s when he saw Chrom’s hand throw down. The signal.

Soren turned, whistling loudly and signal for those surrounding him to move forward. Half of the army began to charge forward. It was all a matter of waiting now. The armies growing closer, closer—

Arrows bombarded across the enemy line from the sky above, giving a startled halt to Plegian’s movements. The remaining Ylissean Pegasus knights emerged from the clouds, archers posed and fired another round as the Plegians reevaluated their actions. Mages were now firing into the air, aiming to knock the skilled fliers out of the sky. Their defenses were being forced to split now and the Ylissean army was upon them.

Armies clashed and the Ylissean troops were immediately overwhelming the divided Plegian army. Chrom led the attack fiercely, plowing through the forces with Vaike swinging his axe behind and Olivia not far behind them. Soren analyzed carefully, knowing his actions had to be prudently accurate.

“NOW!” Soren called out again, releasing the other half of the army into battle, the Shepherds joining in the fray for this time. The additional army bombarded the field and added the much needed help to the other soldiers. It was timed perfectly at this rate. The Plegian soldiers were growing scattered across the field, unable to form large masses which allowed the Ylissean armies to take them out with no causality.

BOOM

Fire exploded close by, forcing the tactician to turn his head towards Sorcerers; a respected, powerful class of dark mages. Though these sorcerers were not the least bit respectful, cackling over the crackling inferno that burned near where Soren stood. Although Soren had stayed towards the immediate back of the army, it was no surprise to find the enemy try to confront against him. Though it was foolish—he wasn’t exactly alone.

“Nosferatu!” Tharja’s body cloaked in darkness as she spun, holding her hand forward. Purple light exploded between the Sorcerer’s, a few escaping death’s grip. She swayed beside Soren’s side, resting a palm on his shoulder, “I think that sent a clear enough message.”

“Pfft, what, don’t touch my candy?” Gaius stuck his head between the open space of their heads, sucking on a rosy lollipop.

“Gaius, please,” Soren strained away from Tharja’s increased closeness, taking a few steps beside Gaius’s free side. “You know he’s worth more than a few meager pieces of confectionary. Though he’s probably just as sweet.”

Soren resisted to look back, already feeling uncomfortable of Tharja’s attempts of flattery. His cheeks were brushed red as he settled for the tome within his coat. Setting his sights upon the remaining Sorcerer’s, he casted a hellstorm of Arcthunder to drive the forces back. With Gaius and Tharja’s bickering out of mind, the battle raced on. Explosions and war cries echoed across the land—metal clashing and blood splashing across the land. Soren yielded commands to the medics to assist on the field, Sully and Stahl on the call to protect these three at all costs. Chrom’s voice boomed over the roars of the battlefield, Soren catching the main important notes to send the necessary troops to his aid. It wasn’t either or controlling this battle, they were in sync even being so far apart in the field.

Soren panted, feeling his ribs rattle, resting a palm against his chest. His chest throbbed from exhaustion, knowing he was pushing himself at this point. He exhaled, pulling the vulnerary from his pouch and drank eagerly, hoping to null the pain for a bit longer. Until the battle was won, he couldn’t stop—not when everyone was giving it their all here.

“It seems your prediction was right, Soren,” Virion joined beside Soren’s side, his sleeves and armor worn from extended use of battle. “The Plegians are starting to retreat!”

Soren pressed his palm, seizing the moment to look across the battle field. Soldiers were fleeing, escaping from further combat of the Ylissean and Feroxi warriors. Yet Soren noticed nearby the ones that attempted to run were being cut down by a bolt of lightning. Soren pressed his knuckle against his chin, analyzing the hostile friendly fire that was ensuing. The Plegian soldiers that dared run were immediately met with a swift cut down the back, blood splattering amongst the desert. When his eyes lifted up—finding the malicious Mad King standing before their body—he knew they grew too deep into the battle.

“Virion, we need to retreat!” Soren reached to grip his shoulder when Gangrel turned, his gray face snarling at the sight of them.

“Clinging to each other won’t save you maggots when the boot falls!” Gangrel’s voice echoed, swinging his sword. The electricity that generated once more and he swung forward. The sword was capable of channeling magic. Soren pushed Virion away, the blast knocking the two of them further apart. Soren rolled, his sleeves tattered and his face covered in dirt. He coughed hoarsely, picking himself from the ground and turned to see the Mad King approaching venomously.

“So it’s the infamous Ylissean tactician!” Gangrel regarded, “I should have made it a point to learn your name a long time ago! To think you’d be the one that would earn to be such a thorn in my side!”

Soren hastily fired a spell of thunder when the king merely repelled the attack, redirecting it to knock into a crowd of soldiers fighting. Soren’s eyes widen in disbelief, casting his attention to find the Mad King was merely laughing at his expression.

“Gya ha ha! Oh, spare me! Is that _all_ you have to offer?” Gangrel jabbed his blade forth, lightning exploding forth again. Soren evaded easily, flowing to his tactics. He had watched Gangrel’s methods once or twice in battle, knowing the man was all show. Something about his movements now seemed different though—it was serious but there was no conviction.

Soren grunted painfully, stepping forth to produce several spells. His chest began to ache once again, straining from the harsh movements and pressure he was forcing his body to endure. Out of the corner of his eye, he found Tharja in the midst of battle, her back pressed against Virion’s covering each other in the midst of battle. Virion seemed to have made his way over to her as he seemed to gesture for her to move forward.

Soren’s attention returned however when he found the towering King a few feet away, raising his thunderous sword. Soren dropped his tome, brandishing his sword to block the potential stab. At this point he made it clear to distract Gangrel in close combat. After each heavy strike, Soren was beginning to feel his stance wane.

“Die, maggot!” Gangrel raised his sword when dark magic exploded behind him, allowing Soren to escape quickly to the side. Steps joined Soren’s side and he knelt up to find Tharja close by, her dark orbs concentrated upon Gangrel. The Mad King laughed obnoxiously, vesting his Levin Sword towards Tharja, grinning darkly.

“Another traitor, fabulous! One more head to cut off!” Gangrel cut across, tendrils of lightning darting viciously in the air. Tharja and Soren were quick to move, both moving to countering with their own magic. Bolts of electricity and darkness merged, exploding dust into the air as Soren gritted his teeth.

“Stay close!” Soren ordered Tharja, darting his attention between the cover Gangrel could use. Did they hit him?

“Nice try!” Soren whirled, flung back by a bolt of electricity. He shouted painfully, crashing on the sand. His body twisted and spasm painfully, his lungs desperately drinking in the little air he was receiving. His eyes shut painfully, opening to find Tharja above him, shaking him. Tharja gritted her teeth, exclaiming something he could barely hear as she stood, her tome brandished out.

No—Tharja no!

Tharja confronted against Gangrel, combating against him skillfully. She was protecting Soren from Gangel’s advance. Soren growled, digging his palms into the sand to force himself up. He had to get up—he had to help Tharja. The dark mage danced away from his deadly attacks, countering as swiftly as possible. Soren could begin to feel control in his muscles, urging the pain from his chest to subside for just a moment—

Tharja slipped away from a spell, but the explosion knocked her back a few steps. Gangrel in turn took the moment to send a thunder spell at her. Tharja didn’t seem ready to dodge it—when Virion pushed Tharja out of the way, taking the hit.  Soren’s eyes widen in horror, painfully standing up finding the mad king was advancing, the sword striking the ground as he grew closer. Soren gritted his teeth, when Gaius joined by his side, gesturing for Tharja to go. Tharja moved to Virion’s side, exclaiming loudly she was going to slap his head for doing something so reckless. Damn it—Gangrel was indeed strong for someone who did a lot of talking.

“Well, I didn’t expect to be facing royalty this quickly,” Gaius teased.

“Well, it’s your lucky chance to be killed by one as well!” Gangrel swung forth, bolts of lightning raining down. The pair easily dodged, moving in to attack in unison. Gangrel seemed to notice the plan, quickly maneuvering back to handle most of Gaius’s strong attacks. It was clear though that while Gaius was handling the rough movements, Soren was quick to divert Gangrel’s attention, giving Gaius the advantage to cut off Gangrel’s armor.

Not only it infuriated the Mad King, it made his movements sloppy. Trying to keep an eye on the two of them while they kept swapping out on attacks was almost ingenious. All the training they did together really paid off as they noticed their own flaws and strengths in battle.  Gaius took the lead, blocking Gangrel’s frontal attack and Soren took from behind, aiming directly to his neck. Gangrel turned hastily, his sword sparking and exploded.

Soren was knocked back, his feet skidding across the rough terrain. He shook his head wildly, his ears ringing loudly as he found Gangrel turning, his voice booming while Gaius struggled to get up.

“Damned rats! I’ll squash you all one by one!”

“Gangrel!” Chrom’s voice thundered, earning the Mad King to stop in his path. Soren’s breathe escaped him, now seeing Chrom was coming towards the field. Chrom steeled himself from charging, approaching the irate tyrant. Gangrel faced Chrom, the sickening grin plastered on his face.

“Come, princeling! I’ve sharpened my sword just for you!” Gangrel gestured the sword threatening to the prince. Chrom made no rush decision, merely pulling his sword from his sheathe. Soren took the second to look past Chrom, relieved to find Sir Frederick a few paces behind, armed with an axe that seemed to have seen it’s fair share of blood today. Soren took the moment to trudge to Gaius, handing him the remaining Vulnerary on his body. Gaius relented, taking a long sip before insisting to give the rest to ‘Your Lordship’.

“My sister wished for our people to know peace, Gangrel. But as long as you draw breath, it can never come.” Chrom raised the Falchion challengingly to Gangrel, Frederick joining by his side. The air grew tense as Soren crossed the field. He knew Chrom and Frederick would be able to handle Gangrel, he knew it. He trusted them that much to do so.

Soren crossed the field, already giving an acknowledged thanks to Chrom for catching Gangrel’s attention. Chrom seemed to nod back as Gangrel cackled, charging directly into combat.

“Virion!” Soren knelt painfully beside Virion, Tharja quickly snatching the vulnerary from his possession. Virion’s head laid upon her lap, a hang pressing to his chest. She popped open the cork, forcing Virion to drink it.

“I don’t understand why you did that—you—” Tharja’s hand shook lightly, her teeth clenching down roughly. Virion unexpectedly laughed, pressing a hand to the glass vial.

“Ahh, you don’t remember our previous conversation?” Virion struggled to swallow the remaining liquid, grinning painfully. Tharja’s brows furrowed together, a dark shadow casting over her eyes from her bangs. Soren didn’t realize what Virion was referring to but it seemed Tharja realized it.

“You’d sacrifice your life….if necessary.” Tharja scoffed darkly, forcing the vial to his lips again, “Ugh….you are….how do I put this…”

“A gentleman of impeccable manners? A dashing rogue of countenance fair?” Virion questioned.

“An idiot who bleeds on my behalf. I hate when someone bleeds _for_ me, not _because_ of me.” Tharja produced a needle from her sleeve, “Soren, make sure you hold his hand cause he’s going to need it.”

“A-Ah, there is no need for such—”

“I may sew your mouth shut if you don’t stop talking,” She threatened, slowly returning back to her normal persona. Yet Soren held a hand to her shoulder, earning her gaze.

“Tharja, hold on. I need Virion’s help for a second.” Soren insisted.

“You fool of a prince!” Gangrel casted bolts of lightning, Chrom leapt and rolling out of the way. Frederick was quick to block and intercept Gangrel’s brash attacks. They danced between parries and attacks, but Gangrel’s speed was proving to become a nuance. As Chrom and Frederick worked efficiently, beating back Gangrel by mere steps, they too were growing tired of combat. Both sides had taken heavy damage at this point.

Chrom ducked roughly, slashing against Gangrel’s sword, the two evenly pushing against one another.

“You think your people will worship you?! Think of you as a hero? You are nothing but a shadow!” Chrom knocked the sword away, jumping back to create much needed distance. Chrom’s teeth gritted painfully, glaring at Gangrel’s disposition. Chrom could see his stance wane slightly, especially after taking all the heavy strikes.

“You are nothing—” Gangrel raised his sword as Chrom readied himself for combat. Yet, nothing came.

Chrom lowered his falchion, finding the tip of an arrow protruding from Gangrel’s chest. Blood slowly began leaking out, tainting his regal outfit. Looking past him, Virion was sat up along Soren’s side, Tharja holding the bow tightly. Chrom exhaled heavily, focusing on Gangrel as the Mad King took a step forward.

“F-fool of ….a prince…your people care not for you….you are….alone. As every man lives and dies….alone….” Gangrel fell upon his knees and fell forward. Silence echoed as Chrom exhaled shakily, turning away from the body. Soren exhaled in sync with Virion, the two falling onto their backs in relief.

“My word, that was close.” Virion lamented.

“Nice shot Virion,” Soren patted his shoulder, wincing lightly from his own pain.

Frederick’s stead walked closely by the fallen duo, extending Tharja vulneraries. Slowly but surely, the Plegian army began to drop their weapons. Soon the Ylissean army gained control of the battlefield and the Feroxi warriors joined, victorious in their capture of the Plegian capital. Sure enough, a soldier finally approached Chrom as he was checking upon Soren and Virion.

“Sire, the remaining Plegian forces are surrendering en masse!”

“Order our forces to cease fighting at once,” Chrom declared, “This war is won.” 

**********************************

Victorious cries echoed across the field, jubilant whoops and hollered followed for many hours of the night. The Shepherds sang and dance, all being led by Olivia who decided to put up a show for many of the weary beaten soldiers. Her dance seemed to entrance many of the soldiers—her voice capturing hope that was so desperately craved at this point. Especially by Chrom, standing tentatively by the tents to catch a glimpse of the show.  Basilio laughed heartedly at the sight, calling Chrom a love sick puppy to which caused the prince to flush madly.

Soren and Flavia clinked their mugs, taking a much needed drink of ale that had been robbed from the Plegian capital. The Plegian capital had taken a toll, with many of it’s people fearful of what was to come. The faint acknowledgement of relief though washed over, knowing many of the Plegian soldiers returned to the capital to help rebuild. Now that Gangrel was dead, someone stepped up to take control before another malicious dictator could. Though Soren didn’t see who the one that they elected so hastily, he could only hope it meant well between the two countries.

Though the night was dictated to a victory feast and show, Soren and Flavia somehow found themselves at the border of the campgrounds. The two sat upon some wooden logs, enjoying the settling quiet as Basilio went to snatch Chrom away from Olivia’s show.  

“Then it’s finished,” Flavia stretched, “Once their messenger delivers our terms, that’s it. We put an end to this bloody business once and for all.”

“We’ve won, though somehow I don’t feel much for celebrating,” Soren’s callused fingers brushed against the cracked rim of the mug. Flavia seemed to share a painful smile, resting a palm on his shoulder.

“Victory can be bitter as well as sweet. It’s a lesson we both needed to learn.” Flavia admitted. Her features softened ever more as she rested her mug between her outstretched legs, looking up to the sky. She sighed, rubbing her jaw in careful circles, “Regna Ferox lost many good soldiers today. We need to see to our dead. Arrange proper burials and funerals. Then, it’ll be time to attend to the living and rebuild our army.”

“I’m sure we have to face the same trials. Though…I’m sorry Flavia. For your sacrifice and your people’s sacrifice, they surely will not be forgotten.”

“I know, the reparations will be most costly for sure. Regna Ferox took a beating for helping in the Ylissean campaign,” Flavia’s expression turned sour, “I’m not sure where to even begin.”

“I’m sure Ylisse will be able to help with the costs—or even the man power.” Soren suggested. Flavia in returned smirked, a chuckle escaping her pink lips.

“Oh? In that case, how about you chat with Chrom to hand over the Fire Emblem and we’ll call it even?” Flavia teased, a smirk drawing upon her lips. Chrom would have had a heart attack if Soren came up to him to ask that.  Soren laughed a little nervously, insinuating Flavia’s bold laugh, slapping a hand to Soren’s back, nearly taking all the air out of him.

“Hah! Just a little Feroxi humor, don’t get wound up, tactician!” She rested a hand upon her hip, “Don’t worry after our finances, Soren. Reparations will fall to Plegia, and I’ve seen their treasury—they can well afford it.”

After all, Flavia and her troops were the ones that secured the Plegian capital, she probably got a first had look of their gold. Soren sweat dropped, rubbing the back of his head. He hoped they didn’t suck the nation dry either. Flavia embraced her cheeky smile, picking her mug with a single swipe.

“So what do you have planned now that this war is over?” Flavia questioned. When Flavia was met with silence, she turned, resting her palms on her kneecaps. “Don’t tell me you have nothing in mind.”

Soren’s fingers brushed along the smooth sides of the mugs, his eyes fixated to the fire. It danced earnestly, probably as much as the others were dancing at this point. It was warming—almost relieving.

Something however kept Soren from fully enjoying the moment.

With the war over, there was no need for a tactician. Chrom was going to need help resuming his place as now King of Ylisse, to fix the system of old. Soren knew he was going to have to help him through this tough time. In the long run though…he…he didn’t see much going for him. He promised Emmeryn to always care for Lissa and Chrom—he would honor that promise to his deathbed. Yet, he knew he couldn’t live a fulfilling life that way.

There was so many things that were still unclear to Soren. He still desired to discover more of his mysterious past, to learn of what the dreams meant to him. Not only that but he worried if his worth as a tactician would last for years to come. He needed to brush up on his studies—to immerse himself in to the art of war. Soren swore that if were to led an army again, he would have the skills to keep everyone alive. That was to be his ultimate goal.

“I’ve thought about it for a while and for now, I’m staying with Chrom and the Shepherds to help rebuild Ylisse. I made a promise to Emmeryn to watch over them—who knows what could roll in later on though. I’m sort of looking to start building new memories and a future.” Soren answered simply.

Flavia seemed to be listening, taking a slow sip from her mug. Her nails tapped against the side, clicking lightly.

“Understandable. I won’t admit I got excited for a second. The post of the chief tactician in the kingdom of Regna Ferox is currently vacant. I wanted you to fill it.” Flavia said honestly.

Soren shifted on the log so suddenly he almost fell over, earning the Khan’s boastful laugh once more.

“Oh? Don’t act so surprised, I am very much an admirer of yours. You are quick witted, bold, and decisive. Everything a superior tactician should be.” Flavia teased, leaning slightly back as Soren fixed himself off the ground. Soren’s cheeks dusted pink from the compliment, rubbing his knuckles against his cheek.

“Still, think about it, eh?” Flavia grinned, patting beside the log for Soren to return to. The thought of starting something new was a little overwhelming…it seemed exciting though. However, Chrom and the others needed his help first. Perhaps…he would consider his options.

“And remember Chrom: pity the man who stands between Flavia and a full coffer, boy,” Basilio warned, earning a sharp glare from the Khan, throwing her mug to the former. Chrom however smiled warmly, chuckling from Basilio’s quick duck, shouting crudely to reigning Khan.

“Heh, I’ll have to remember that when you both come to visit Ylisstol.” Chrom acknowledged, smiling to Soren. Soren smiled back, his fogging mind clearing ever so slightly. It was going to get better—they were going to do it together.

**********************************

And so the war between Ylisse and Plegia ended.

Prince Chrom, Soren, Frederick, along with many of the Shepherds, worked tirelessly to restore Ylisse’s splendor. This would be no easy task, for the war had taken a heavy toll on the halidom. But with Feroxi muscle and Plegian gold, they brought peace and hope back to the people. All the while, the prince forswore the title of exalt, out of respect to his late sister.

Even so, his subjects grew eager for their new ruler to take a wife……


	17. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...................................
> 
> So....
> 
> I don't have any words for how late this is -w- Just........life hit me very hard. BUT, I promise this story is not over. It's far from over. I've just been working a lot of hours lately and with my laptop dying a few months ago, I've been hard at work to be able to purchase a new one. So here I am.
> 
> .w. I hope y'all enjoy.

The Proposal

**********************************

_Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly._

Rosa Franken

**********************************

“Milord, your afternoon session is beginning—”

“Tell them I’ll meet them in ten minutes. I need to discuss a few things with Soren—”

“You said that ten minutes ago; they’re growing impatient.”

The tactician lifted his gaze from the complex diagram displayed on the center of the war council table. The war room had not been in use since the end of the Ylisse-Plegian war, now comfortably being reformed into a conversation room or a place for study. Soren had taken the luxury of spending most of his research in this room, finding solace in the quiet atmosphere. With constant meetings, spending many nights and days rebuilding Ylisse, and reorganizing laws—the Shepherds were constantly at hand trying to fix things up.

Today was supposed to be a quiet day again, but when Chrom joined the tactician in the common room, it didn’t surprise him what the purpose of it was for.

Soren’s bare arms rested upon the cool surface of the table, smirking lightly upon Chrom’s disappointed expression, watching his shoulders slack in realization. His dark tunic was wrinkled from the extended use of constantly going out into many of the southern villages to help volunteer and repair. Not even the royal seamstress’s attempts had cleared out all the smudges and wrinkles. Chrom honestly doesn’t care—but today was going to be different.

Well, it was supposed to be at least.

Chrom groaned, rubbing his gloved fingers against his temple, brushing his navy bangs back. Chrom apologized to Frederick, stating he would hurry over. Though Chrom glanced over to Soren, that hesitation lingering. Soren waved his hand reassuringly to take off. Chrom’s shoulders dropped further and he sighed. With another dignified sigh, he straightened up and left the room leaving Soren and Frederick to themselves.

“Milord seems apprehensive today, strangely enough…” Frederick’s stern gaze casted towards the smirking Soren, watching the red head drum all his fingers against the table. “Do you know something about it?”

Soren rested an elbow upon the table, “Well, I may know something about it….”

Frederick stared patiently at the tactician. Soren however grinned, actually enjoying Frederick’s brows furrowing in irritation over his silence. Minutes passed while Soren crossed his arms behind his neck, taking in the gracious idea that his wounds were fully beginning to heal properly. He could move fluidly without constant strain or pressure to his chest. Soren smirked lightly as Frederick’s firm stance never wavered, but his eyes were slowly steeling. It was a good thing he wasn’t armed at the moment, if they were on the field, he would’ve already had his axe out at this very moment.

“Care to share the information?” Frederick pressed finally.

Soren leaned back slightly, his brown orbs darting briefly to the doorway. Frederick seemed to follow his gaze, sighing briefly as he went over to close the doors. When they were closed, Soren was standing up, stretching his arms above his head.

“So, why is it that you’re being so….elusive?” Frederick crossed the room, standing by the foot of the table. Soren gestured briefly to the map with an open palm.

“Well, I’m only telling you this since I know you deserve to hear this more than anyone else. But Frederick you need to swear not to speak of this to anyone—especially Lissa!” Soren pointed sharply, his eyes narrowing.

Frederick seemed to stiffen at the suggestion but with a sweeping reserve, he nodded firmly. Soren smiled warmly and pressed a hand on the table. Sweeping his hand over the spot, a silver ring remained over the map, glittering briefly from the sun’s rays. Frederick didn’t approach any closer, already catching glimpse of the Ylissean brand.

“Well, Chrom…….Chrom’s trying to propose.” Soren answered.

Frederick squinted once, allowing the information to foster and grow. His eyes widen, clearly understanding and for a moment, Soren couldn’t tell if Frederick looked proud or not.

“…….By the Gods….” Frederick took Chrom’s vacant seat, glancing bewilderedly to the royal ring that rested on the table, “He’s finally going to propose to her.”

“Yes he is. Though by Naga’s grace, I hope he doesn’t chicken out last second.” Soren said earning a raised brow from Frederick.

“What do you mean?”

Soren lifted his hand forward, grabbing the ring from the table and shifted out of the seat. The knight watched cautiously as the tactician moved forward, adjusting himself upon his knee in front of him. Frederick immediately lifted his chair up, inching back from the kneeling tactician.

“Frederick, I have to show it this way or else you will not understand how Chrom keeps stumbling every time he even gets on his knee—”

“Soren, no.”

*********************************

“Frederick!” Lissa shuffled down the hall, her hands fiddling and twirling the ends of her teal dress. Now that the war was over, she was finally able to wear all her dresses again. She loved her yellow one but the seamstress wasn’t finished fixing that one yet. In the meantime, she was wearing an equally as important dress to her in life. Lissa smiled fondly of a memory; exploring the halls and running with her hair loose and free. Her sister was chasing after her, attempting to scold her but her carefree laughter expelled into the air. She was trying to fix her hair for Lissa’s 14th birthday and already the birthday girl was running wild with her new dress.

Heh, guess things never changed.

Lissa smiled softly, brushing the ends of her teal dress before skipping off in search of the stoic knight.

“Oh Frederiiick~” Lissa peeked along the corridors, greeting the chambermaids with warm smiles. Yet as she continued her search for the overbearing protector, she was growing worried when he wasn’t responding. The one time she would actually be looking for him and he’s not there???

“Frederiiiiiiiiicccccck!” No response.

Lissa sighed impatiently, crossing her arms against her chest and huffed loudly, “Maybe he’s with Chrom in the old War Room.” Lissa tapped her fist onto her palm, nodding confidently at the idea.

Crossing the halls and watching carefully of her step, she hurried down the hallway. Eager to show off her dress to Frederick, curious of his opinion to see if she could wear it to Sumia’s and his engagement party that was to be held in the beginning of the fall. She couldn’t wait any longer for how she was happy for the two of them. She knew he would be fine with the dress, probably recalling her rushing down the hall with Emmeryn on her birthday those many years ago.

Lissa finally made it to the room, pressing an ear to a door to hear Frederick’s stern sign, mumbling away. Lissa blinked, surprised when she heard Soren’s voice echoing right after. Soren and Frederick were hanging out without Chrom and it didn’t involve training??

Oh, she needed to see this.

“Hey, Soren! Frederick!” Lissa pressed the handles down, pushing the doors open with her palms, “What do you think of my dress—eh?”

Across the table, Frederick rested a hand upon Soren’s waist, his other holding his hand while Soren’s free hand was upon Fredericks’ shoulder. Both positioned awkwardly, ready to waltz it seemed like. The bubbling thoughts that were filling her head originally drained away at the suggesting sight. Both the men were looking at her direction, their face paled.

“L-Lissa it’s not what it looks like!” Soren stammered, immediately the two parting away from each other. Lissa stared between the two, wanting to jump to conclusions as the mischievous prankster side of her was beginning to grow.

“Okay, spill—what was that about???” Lissa gestured with a grin. Soren’s cheeks were flushed as he exhaled, fanning himself with a hand.

“Lissa, I’m sorry but I can’t tell you.” Soren exclaimed.

Lissa stared at Soren, almost surprised he had the strength to say it. Yet she knew he had just decided to accept a very dangerous challenge. If Soren wasn’t able to handle Lissa’s innocent pranks, he surely wasn’t going to be able to resist what she could cook up right now. Lissa smiled mischievously, swaying on her heels.

“Oh? You can’t?” Lissa hummed, brushing her hands down her dress, “I guess I’ll just have to explain it to everyone later that Frederick was trying to waltz you off~”

Soren flushed brightly at the threat, his cheeks glowing brighter than his own hair. Soren stuttered something incoherently causing Lissa to giggle at the sight. He always got so easily flustered. The doors of the room suddenly shut, Lissa turning to find the broad shouldered knight pressing his back against the door. Frederick adjusted his necktie briefly, his eyes darting to Soren.

“Soren, Lissa is Chrom’s sister after all, she has a right to know. We wouldn’t want any unnecessary attention…nor my fiancé sobbing for the next hour.” Frederick gazed briefly to the side, his cheeks dusted faintly pink.

Lissa beamed, turning to Soren, finding he was slowly finding his composure once again. Soren rubbed his temple with his index finger, settling upon the open chair beside him.

“All right, but Lissa, I need you to promise me that you won’t speak a word about what I’m going to tell you.” Soren insisted as Lissa sat in another chair, smiling innocently, swinging her legs.

“Don’t worry so much, Soren,” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling, “So what is it???”

Soren briefly darted his attention to Frederick before returning back on Lissa. He rubbed his cheek gently before briefly opening his palm to reveal the Ylissean ring. Lissa noticed, puzzled as to why Soren would have the heirloom.

“Lissa, your brother is going to propose to Olivia,” Soren hesitated when he didn’t see Lissa react at the statement immediately. She remained still, blinking once. Slowly it seemed the information began to sink in. Lissa then was on her feet, grinning brightly.

“Oh my gosh! He’s finally going to propose to her!!” Lissa was absolutely giddy, pacing back and forth. “Is he going to tell her soon???”

“Well, he’s trying for this evening—” Lissa’s jaw dropped open in horror, her hands moving to her pigtails.

“What?! Oh no, I need to get ready! I gotta tell Maribelle—”

At the sound of Lissa’s dear friend, Soren bolted from the chair, helpless to watch as Lissa had brushed past Frederick to the doors. “WAIT LISSA! HOLD ON—” She escaped out the doors as Soren stumbled forth in a sprint, gripping upon the wooden frame. His eyes darted side to side, surprised she managed to get out of sight so quickly.

“Oh Naga, what have I done?” Soren gripped his face, sliding his hand down in distress. Frederick joined by his side in time for Soren to grip his shirt.

“We need to do something Frederick! We can’t let her tell everyone!” Soren tugged his collar down, resisting from collapsing in stress. “You’re in too deep Frederick, for the sake of Ylisse, we need to find Lissa.”

Soren released his hold on Frederick, escaping out into the middle of the hallway before going down the direction he assumed she had rushed down to, calling out to Frederick to search the other corridor.

******************************

Despite exploring the entire left side of the castle, Soren had come to the conclusion that Lissa was truly the master at disappearing. He was sprinting across the corridors to find the sight of the blue dressed princess. The tactician ended up passing through the Shepherds newly built headquarters, surprised to find no one lingering by the tables.

Soren didn’t even find Sumia, Sully, or Cordelia lingering by the horse stables. The three Pegasus knights were always found there with the young Donnel assisting to care for the Pegasus. Slowly but surely, Soren’s descent into a panic was almost apparent when he was positive that none of the Shepherds were around that were still here.

Dear god, what has he done?

Soren slowed his pace, attempting to analyze the situation of what could’ve happened. If Lissa had come this way—Donnel would most likely have followed. Seeing the lad had a crush on her and she’s been keen of showing him around, the two most likely have scampered off leaving Cordelia and Sumia to find him. Sully would have most likely not even worry, probably leaving off to find Stahl.

If that was the case—then how come he hasn’t seen anyone yet??

It was not too long after Frederick and Soren met up with each other that it was clear that most likely everyone knew what was going to happen. Frederick expressed his concern especially since he had failed to even see Stahl or Vaike in the training yard. Soren sat upon the stair cases leading towards the main chamber, his arm bouncing upon his knee.

“Frederick, what am I going to do?” The tactician pressed his face into his palms, sighing irritably at his mistakes, “Chrom wanted this to be a surprise!”

“I’m afraid I’m also at fault for this…” Frederick admitted, “But I’m at a lost as much as you are. I’m not sure where everyone could have gone to.”

Soren dragged his fingers down his face, unable to think realistically at where they could be. There’s so many places that the Shepherds could be at without warning. He was nervous, he was more afraid that they had already alerted Olivia. If they revealed to her Chrom’s intentions, all would be for naught.

“Oh Naga, I’m doomed…”

“Soren?”

Soren paused, turning his body half way around to find light steps following. The slender dancer seemed to join the duo, her rosy curls flowing freely with her braids brushing along her cheeks. She wore a simple beige gown, her bangles still resting upon her pale skin. Soren swallowed, adjusting his collar, not expecting to find Olivia outside.

“Olivia, I’m surprised to see you out here.” Soren greeted, forcing a smile as Frederick bowed briefly to the dancer. She smiled warmly, her cheeks blushed.

“There’s no need for formalities Frederick, but thank you.” OIivia stepped down a step, her eyes casting around the two men. Her eyes dimmed, briefly losing the glow of excitement. Had she expected someone else here?

Soren’s head tilted ever so slightly, his bangs sliding over the right side of his face.

“Is there anything we can help you with?” Soren decided to ask. Olivia’s cheeks blushed lightly, her dainty fingers scratching her cheek.

“I know it may sound a little strange, but I was wondering if either of you had seen Chrom by any chance?” Olivia brushed her hand against the smooth bangle, tracing light circles as Frederick shifted, answering the question.

“Milord is held in a meeting unfortunately. He should be out within the next hour if all goes well.”

Olivia smiled softly at the news, nodding her head in thanks. Ever since Olivia opted to stay in the kingdom rather than return back to Regna Ferox, it seemed the duo would spend time when they could. Soren had hoped it was because she shared the same feelings towards Chrom.

Soren raised a brow, although his curiosity to ask why Olivia seemed…eager to see Chrom…he had pressing matters to attend. “Oh! Olivia, by any chance have you seen Lissa?” Soren decided to ask. Olivia hummed softly, resting her chin lightly upon her knuckles.

“I did see her running into the Shepherd’s building not too long ago. Maribelle and Donnel were with her as well.”

Soren found his answer.

Soren smiled appreciatively, thanking Olivia as he made a dash down the stairs, nearly leaving Frederick to apologize for the rash behavior. Soren crossed the courtyard, passing soldiers training with bows and arrows, many of whom were merely running laps under strict orders of Frederick—ironic since he stopped to watch to make sure they were following his orders.

Soren persisted forward till he reached the door. He hesitated to enter but he knew he had to stop her. He pressed his knuckles against the door, pausing briefly to inspect if there was anything hanging above the door. He would not fall victim to anymore of her pranks.

“Lissa?” Soren peered inside, the door opening slowly.

“SURPRISE—ER—” Shredded pieces of papers clung to his head, remainders drifting off to the floor. At first he didn’t understand why someone would even want to throw paper at someone but when he caught sight of Lissa with a bag of grains, it wasn’t hard to diagnose this was a better solution. Catching sight of the young princess, she waved sheepishly with a quick release of the bag in her position. Busted was an understatement for this moment.

Soren sighed, brushing his fingers along the bridge of his nose in a circular motion. They couldn’t have commandeered the Shepherd’s quarters without assistance.

“Lissa, Donnel….” Soren began, “Who else knows?”

“Oh Soren, what are you talking about?” Lissa’s smile betrayed her attempt to stay composed. Soren brow rose now turning around to face the farmer. He froze in his retreat down the ladder, his tin pot shifting over his violet locks. Donnel was not one to lie, especially with being the youngest Shepherd and trying to make a good impression upon everyone.

“Donnel?” Soren edged, resting a hand upon his hip, “Don’t lie to me—”

“She told Miss Maribelle!” Donnel blurted, “Then Sully and Stahl overheard it, they told Vaike and Miriel, Gregor and Nowi overheard—” Speaking of the missing Shepherds, Sully and Stahl partially revealed themselves behind the wall, At the point of meeting his annoyed brown orbs, the duo slowly slipped away back in the shadows, resuming whatever they were doing.

“Donnel!” Soren snapped his attention back to Lissa, seeing her cheeks redden in embarrassment. Donnel expressed a sincere apology but Soren wasn’t letting Lissa escape without an explanation, turning to block the ajar door. Lissa fiddled with the ends of her dress, her thumbs smoothing out invisible wrinkles.

“I…I…..I’m sorry Soren, really! I was trying not to let it blow up like you were probably thinking!” Lissa defended, “We haven’t told everyone else out of this building, we were just…trying to throw something nice once Chrom does it!”

“/If/ he even does it,” Soren reminded, “Chrom has been trying to work up the courage to do it for the past week! This may leave him skittish then determined.”

“Hey! I believe my brother can do it!” Lissa puffed her chest like a blue jay. “Sure he’d probably admit you fight well over something sincere…” When the words spilled out of her mouth, Lissa’s mouth slacked slightly, a croak of a realization escaping. Soren sighed, allowing her to settle in the self-realization when the door was pushed forward.

Frederick entered into the fray with his head held high, shoulders swaying as he closed the door behind him. Lissa nearly froze when Frederick’s suspecting gaze caught sight of her. With a brief sigh, Frederick’s stern gaze met to Soren and approached.

“Soren, I’m sorry—but Chrom has the ring once more.”

“Wait—what?” Soren faced the large knight, “When did this happen?”

“A few moments ago, it seems he had pressing matters to attend to with the meetings…” The pause in Frederick’s voice left Soren unnerved, “He may not be proposing to Lady Olivia any time soon—”

“NOOOO!” Lissa shrilled. Soren turned, holding a hand out to prevent Lissa from doubling out the door.

“But he has to! He’s waited so long—and—and he deserves it! They both do!” Lissa’s cheeks grew heated, gripping onto Soren’s forearm “After all that’s happened, there should be some sort of happiness meant for them. It’s what…it’s what…” Her lips trembled and she resisted the tears that began to weld at her eyes.

Soren’s digits tightened, raising up to brush back her blonde locks from her face. He knew fully well what she was going to say. The name that crippled upon the tongues of everyone in the Halidom since her death. It was painstakingly difficult to think about it. If only….if only she could have seen something so happy as—

“SSSSSSSH!” Sully pressed a finger to her lips, silencing the entire room. Lissa and Soren turned their heads towards the window behind them, Lissa brushing her eyes hurriedly.

Chrom was sitting outside with a book in his hand, Olivia kneeling a step beside him. The two were casually chatting, smiles etched on their faces. It almost seemed strange to see Chrom relaxed, his shoulders loose and daintily holding the book, not afraid if he were to accidently drop it. Olivia had that affect upon everyone so it wasn’t a surprise Chrom was spellbound. Perhaps that was the reason he kept trying to get her attention, not to be afraid of the idea of him.

With a glimpsing side glance to Lissa, the two agreed to press closer towards the door, cracking it ever so slowly to hear the conversation escaping between the two.

“Heh, I’ve enjoyed our time together, it seems strange that we’ve gotten to know each other better. I used to be so afraid I would run and hide in a barrel the minute you came by!” Olivia admitted, her cheeks dusted red.

“Really?” Chrom’s laugh echoed followed by Olivia’s. A genuine smile etched across his face, “Heh, I do love your laugh…”

“…I love seeing you relax instead of reading war books…” Olivia’s cheeks glowed brightly, “If I may be so bold. It shows even you’re human….”

“Naga all mighty—CHROM, DON’T MESS UP—” Soren covered Lissa’s mouth, cringing from her flailing attempts. Soren shushed her as everyone gathered closer to the window.

The duo’s conversation grew quiet, their lips moving for only them. Chrom’s hand twitched by his side and Soren bit his lip in anticipation. Frederick indeed returned the ring thankfully, the opportunity won’t be missed. After brief, silent exchanges, Olivia’s cheeks redden immensely. She almost fell upon the next step, her hands awkwardly catching onto Chrom’s extended arm.

“OH MY GOSH, WHHHHHAAAT?!” Olivia’s shrill finally overcame the silence.

Now all eyes were upon Chrom. Even his cheeks were brushed red, the man fixing himself so he was knelt before her, holding the ring delicately in his hand, “Will you do me the honor, Olivia? Will you marry me?”

“Heh, let’s see,” Olivia swayed lightly upon the step, smiling brightly, “Will I marry this smart, funny prince who’s also super handsome, hmm, I may have to think about it~” The clever tease was apparent in her voice as Chrom uttered a small laugh as Olivia turned to face him. She suddenly lunged at him, nearly knocking the man over down the steps, “Yes! Of course I will!”

……….

“She said…yes?” Frederick seemed dumbfounded at first while Stahl and Sully shared glances.

“She said yes!” Lissa and Soren cheered, squeezing each other when all the Shepherds in the room exploded in cheers, “SHE SAID YES!!!!!!!!!!!” With all the loud cheering and whooping escaping into the courtyard, Soren almost missed the chance of catching the duo gazing into the Shepherd’s building, now both glowing brightly.

“Well, now you’re making ME blush!” Chrom shouted, crossing his arms firmly against his chest, catching sight of Soren’s gaze. A small smile escaped instead, now turning his direction to Olivia who burned brightly, her fingers brushing along her golden bangles.

Moments after, the duo entered the Shepherds room, they were exploded with greetings of congratulations and hugs. Signs of hope seemed to be exploring at last with the sight of the blushing intended to be. At that moment, it was decided Olivia was to be his wife and for the following months they would prepare for the event that would raise the hopes of the kingdom.

 

 

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Elsewhere:

“It seems he’s engaged, not surprising.” The woman’s hand flicked off her silken sleeves, her tanned features shining even in the dark atmosphere.

“It was fated to happen—soon the troublesome princess will be born to this time. So defenseless…” A velvety laugh escaped from the shadowy presence, “Unable to stop what’s to come.”


	18. A Wrinkle in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHA. I'm getting back into it. I'm going to try and get back to a two week schedule if I can. I know this one took a month but relishing at the fact it came be 17 pages when normally these chapters can be 8 or 9 pages, I think I did a two in one. So! We're still in a filler arc but I only have one more chapter left before we get back to the fun ol' times with Valm. Hehehe, thank you so much for all that follow (Especially Keys and Criss, you've guys helped me soooooooo much) I'd still like to hear comments on how to improve as an author but regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter!! 
> 
> Until next time~

_Like wildflowers;_

_You must allow yourself to grow in all the places people thought you never would._

_-E.V_

**********************************

_The water crept along his ribs, rising with no intention of stopping. Robes soaked and clung to his body desperately, his nails bleeding and carving itself into the stone foundation. An icy breath escaped his lips, teeth grinding—_

_He was going to die, that much was positive._

_**********************************_

Ten Hours Prior:

The wagon rocked over the gravel pathway, Soren gripping upon the wooden frame as his possessions slid across the planks. It was an endless amount of days since he had been graced with catching this fortune. The driver had hailed for him when Soren was assisting a village that was ransacked not too far away. Seeing that kindness for hometown, he offered him the best seat he could offer.

Well….it was something at least.

The carriage rocked once more, his whole body moving along with it. The tactician grumbled, flipping across the tome he held so dearly in his grasp. The first form of weapon he had—what was in his possessions since he had woken up in the field on that fateful day.

His digits brushed against the smooth surface, taking in the rough, torn edges that showed the tome’s history. Flipping within the inside of the tome, the strange dialect rewrote itself within his eyes, becoming comprehendible. For Soren the languages within the tomes were always easy to understand, even within the shadowy tomes such as Nosferatu and Ruin. Those were different spell classes in general and even if he was not able to cast the spells—he still knew what was within the text.

It was strange. Very strange.

Soren had spoken to Miriel about it on several cases, the studious mage claiming it was an unusual phenomenon; his procedural memory was intact. Although he had lost memory of all his friends, family, history—there was still something within that remembered what he had learned from the past. 

Soren, despite knowing his memories were fragmented and surely lost, still clung on to that hope that he could reconnect the chains. Even if it took him years—he wanted to know.

He had the right to it.

“We’re here!” The wagon came to an abrupt stop, Soren spiraling and falling to his side, groaning. When he took the moment to collect his gear and stepped out into the hot, spiraling sun; Soren merely pressed his hand over his eyes to view the desert landscape.

It’s been nearly a year since the war against Plegia had ended. Months after Chrom had finally proposed to Olivia, ushering a brief respite of peace and hope. With the wedding coming up, it was supposed to be a moment where all the Shepherds can gather once again. However, Soren took notice to those who had returned to their homelands—such as Virion—never seemed to reach back about attending the wedding.

It wasn’t surprising—everyone probably had things to attend to.

Soren made a strange request to Chrom to fetch out some of the Shepherds that were nearby. His journey took him to the frozen slopes of Regna Ferox, to inquire for Lon’qu. The silent swordsman was surprised by the proposal, but at Basilio’s insistence, (“HA HA! Someone must walk her down the aisle! If I ain’t doin it, it better be you!”)

He managed to track down Libra’s whereabouts in the southern states of Ylisse, tending to the poor and the orphaned children. It was after helping him for a week, constructing a new building for the homeless was Libra satisfied to return to the palace.

However, when retrieving Panne from the depths of the forest east of Ylisse, he gained a strange inquiry of where Gaius and Tharja had lingered off to.

Now he was here, within the outskirts of the desert, his eyes casted towards the fields that connected the border of Ylisse and Plegia. Soren waved off the carriage man, exhaling easily as he loosened his robes slightly, recalling dully how when he was to return to Ylisse he was to receive new armor for his new title; Grandmaster, an honor he was unsure how to accept.

With thoughts escaping from the many dawning responsibilities at home, his attention casted towards the vast mountains, unsure of where to start. He had only received a tidbits of information of Gaius and Tharja’s whereabouts from Panne.

_“I had caught of the sugary one’s whereabouts—the smell of caramel and fudge was obnoxious.” Panne recalled, her hair wolven within her ears. Her body turned, casting her clawed finger towards the mountain scape, “Within the base of the mountains, you’ll find a gate. They’ve been watching a group—for what?”_

_“I do not know”_

His chocolate orbs raised up, the strands of his bangs loosely sliding over the front of his face. The mountain was vast; unexplored territories beyond the ravines and slopes the hills offered. His steps settled into place upon the untrekked path, coming closer to where his destination was needed.

Soren hoped for convenience sakes that whatever Gaius and Tharja were doing was nothing serious. Nor had they acted out their plan yet. Soren rolled his sleeves, preparing himself for a brief climb up a rigid slope. Before even gripping the loose stone, he heard the shuffle of something within the bushes behind him. Pausing from his climb, he turned slightly.

An arrow flew by, nearly catching him by the sleeve of his robe. Soren was quick enough to stumble away, gripping upon his bag. Aggressive shouts and rumbustious calls were made as two horses escaped from the shrubbery, their riders posed with arrows ready to take the shot. Darting his gaze between the two, he wasn’t surprised when 5 mercenaries began to follow. Scanning the maroon colored armor, he was briefly taken to find they were Plegian bandits.

What were Plegians doing at the border of Ylisse again?

After the war, he was strictly forbidden to cause terrorizing as such. Guards were sent on patrol in every other village that laid upon the border, hoping to intimidate bandits from further intercessions. What were they doing here….?

“Haha, well look at what we have here, boys!” The leader trekked forward, his face shadowed by the ox skull he wore, it’s horned decorated with loot. His body held a powerful frame, stalking forward Soren with wolf like intent, “Looks like we have some royal trying to climb his way out of his coffin!” The others laughed alongside him.

Soren kept his guard, watching as the leader prowled beside him, scanning, searching for potential boons. Judging by the necklaces that were entangled along the polished horn, it seems they were still fresh and new; stolen from about days ago from a certain village perhaps?

“Are you….the bandits that rampaged the village a few miles east of Southtown, by the border of Plegia and Ylisse?” Soren teeth chattered, admitting fear that only made the leader howl in laughter.

“Haha, that might have been us,” Now he withdrew his axe, metallic and clean of any blood, “All the reason more you should drop everything you own.” He pressed the axe forward, Soren feeling the dull side of the blade against his neck, “Now.”

The tactician let out a fake shiver, his shoulders shaking exaggeratedly, “Oh…that’s a relief…I was going to feel bad about this then.”

“What?” The leader barked.

Soren grinned, immediately withdrawing a tome from his sleeve. The pages flipped wildly, an emerald glow escaping in flickers. His hair began to toss and unravel from his loose ponytail when the burst of wind escaped, knocking the leader over brutally. The tome settled down, still glowing powerfully as Soren settled himself properly, ready for combat.

“Wait a sec—I’ve seen that fella before!” A low ranked called out, “He’s the tactician of the Shepherds!”

The collective murmurs followed with the weary glances casted to each other. Soren knew the advantage he had over them. While they had numbers—he had the advantage of magic.

“What, what is he doing way out here?!” One asked in the midst of the confusion.

Their leader however managed to pick himself up, a trail of blood running across his face from the landing. His face was in a permanent sneer, threatening gesturing his axe to the tactician, “You idiots, then gag him with his tome and kill him!”

Soren footsteps were quick to evade the firing of arrows that came his way. When they came to quick, he summoned for the winds from within the tome, knocking them away from his path. The bandits were intimidated but that didn’t stop from their reckless acts to follow him. He zigzagged down the path, pushing branches out of his path, skirting away into the bushes. The raiders were getting lost, some back to back with each other trying to cover themselves from the potential attacks.

They weren’t wrong to think like that.

“Elwind!” Soren leapt from the bushes, gales of winds knocking the bandits into trees, weapons scattering across the ground. An archer plowed through the winds, firing arrows in a sloppy manner. He covered behind a tree, feeling the tips pierce and rattle the bark. He swapped out Elwind, hastily throwing himself out into the open. With his palms open, electricity expelled in concentration, frightening the horse. The horse threw off his rider, bolting away in a panic.

Soren smirked lightly, impressed at how well this was going. The remaining archer and bandit decided to take off, bolting away in fear of what the tactician had done.

“Cowards! All of you!” The leader charged forward, shouting as he prepared to strike against Soren. Soren prepared himself. Yet when shadows caught at his feet, Soren was the least to say surprised. The leader, in a frenzy, began thrashing and shouting, clawing at the ground to escape from the spell pulling him in.

Soren grimaced, looking away as the remained of the nosferatu did it’s charm.

“No one…touches my perfectly capable husband.” A chill ran down Soren’s spine. He turned, now facing Tharja in all her threatening radiance. She hadn’t changed much, her captivating charm still submerged within her wicked aura. Then again, with the new spells it seems like Tharja has been developing, perhaps it’s best she hadn’t changed her way of thinking….at least she was on their side.

“Soren, you’re a long way home from the comforting capital of Ylisse,” Tharja’s voice caught his attention, her nails drawing circles on the base of his wrist, “Have you come all this way just to see me?”

It was not to deny he saw the blush upon her cheeks, but the fact that this wasn’t the first time that this situation has happened. To the point where Soren was growing dull to her advances, sighing briefly, his cheeks flushed briefly by the mere touches she kept giving. Instead, he quickly grabbed upon her hands, patting the back of them gently.

“I-I did actually. You’re my friend Tharja, though I had came for both you and Gaius,” Soren attempted to draw that line again. Tharja frowned initially but smiled faintly.

“We’ll see….i’m sure you’ll warm yourself up to me just yet.” It seemed Tharja needed a book that explained what the definition of no meant.

Soren sighed, flustered with her approach per usual, “Anyways, I did need your help with something—also to invite you to Chrom’s wedding.”

“Oh, need a date to the dance?” She quipped.

“Tharja.”

“Heh, thanks for the invitation. Though I do fear we’ll be delayed to attend it.” Soren raised a brow, following Tharja’s gesture to follow. Crossing the forest ground, it wasn’t surprising to find on the edge of a cliff the lollipop sucking assassin swaying his leg over the edge, unamused.

“Heeeeeey, Bubbles. Lookin good, looks like the past couple of months are treating you well.” Gaius peered over his shoulder, smirking with the stick to the corner of his mouth. Soren smiled, comforted to see that the two were doing all right.

“Thanks Gaius,” It was a relief to see the wayward thief lounging about, having disappeared months ago with Tharja to who knows where. Sully was ready to send a cavalry of men to find his whereabouts when Frederick insisted the energy was better spent elsewhere.

Soren joined by the assassin’s side, peering past the mass of pine trees and mountains to see a trail of smoke escaping. A camp most likely was based within the trails in the mountain, perhaps the bandits that had attacked the village was located there. Soren briefly darted his attention to Gaius, twisting slightly in position to now face Tharja who stood a few feet from them.

“What has this group done that you’ve taken in interest in this?” Soren got straight to the point.

Tharja briefly glanced towards the mountain side, humming, “Mmm…I wanted to practice some new spells,” She smirked dangerously, “That’s all.”

Soren was not surprised, especially after watching the leader of the bandits succumb to Tharja’s spell so ruthlessly. Gaius’s lips quirked, a toothy smile escaping, “Well you heard the lady, chop chop Soren. You want us to come to wedding, right?”

“Wait, what?” Soren gapped.

“It’d be faster if you came to help us with this little task. Don’t worry, Bubbles, we got /everything/ under control. For the greater good and all that jazz.” Gaius knelt up, taking a stance as he removed the wooden stick from his mouth, the edges nipped clean of all the confectionary that once molded around it. He flicked it off over the cliff, a hand slipping into his chest pocket, quickly claiming another sugary victim.

Soren hastily regained his posture, catching up to Gaius noticing he kept a certain distance from Tharja. It was strange noting since the two had become close to each other after the war was over. Rumors had even spread that the two were romantically interested in each other. Watching now on how Gaius and Tharja worked in unison, it was surprising how different it was from the gossip. It was comradery at its finest, working together side by side with quick jabs and flirty jokes, but that’s all it was. Gaius trekking behind left Soren wondering the man’s thought process. It was how Soren walked with Tharja; he’d be there for her the minute she need it…but not close enough to create the tension.

 “You know,” Soren cut off his train of thoughts and turned, raising a brow when the thief took the lollipop out of his mouth.

“A Plegian and Ylisse village got dissipated by these thugs. Tharja only could save the one in Plegia but by the time we caught whiff of the one in Ylisse, they villagers were barely picking up the rubbles of their homes.” Soren’s eyes widen in surprise over the revelation, Gaius darted his eyes towards her back, humming softly, “She may not admit it…but she has a soft heart. Though I don’t doubt she’s gonna kill everyone to practice her magic.”

“Oh no, I don’t doubt that either.” Soren agreed, focusing his attention upon her back. Tharja was a mysterious, astounding woman after all.

Although crazy, obsessively in love with Soren, brutally cold towards all else—when she began to open up, there was someone complex hiding under there. Soren hoped that she continued to grow out from her shell—one day.

**********************************

 After hours of trekking through the forest and the mountain sides, the three had found themselves observing the entrance of the bandit’s hideout. After detecting and following the rotation of the bandits, it was easy to either dispose or merely sneak in without detection. Gaius led the way with Soren in nimble pursuit and Tharja following at the rear. Pressing against the walls, Gaius pressed a gloved finger to his lips, thumbing past the corner. Soren and Tharja easily maneuvered around, kneeling to peer over the wall.

Bandits of all sorts seemed to be gathering, several from Plegia, from Regna Ferox, from Ylisse—what was this?

Soren’s eyes narrowed, flitting past the various colors of uniforms till he caught sight of the leader. Similarly dressed as the man Tharja had killed, Soren had to double take to make sure it wasn’t the same man. Without the large gash on his face, this man had to be his twin brother. His hair was loosened to his shoulders, polished armor covering every inch of his body. With a scrutiny gaze; it was clear to tell that this twin was not of this nation. That this _soldier_ nonetheless belonged to neither Plegia, Regna Ferox, or Ylisse.

The soldier pressed forward, arms open, “I’ll make this short lads, I’ve called you all here from the far corners of this continent to give you purpose.”

“Purpose?” Gaius whispered, “Great, another whack job.”

“Sshh!”

“I, Commander Pyro, have traveled far across the ocean from the great continent of Valm. I come on behalf of High Commander Ignatius to pursue those willing to take charge, to prepare for the conquering of these lands!”

Murmurs escaped from several men, others darting their line of sight to each other while others asked what was in it for them. Soren felt his shoulders stiffen at the tone this commander was using. It was too soon, not even a year after the war with Plegia was over with—to have another indication of war at their door steps?

“Patience lads, I know how it feels to be on these meager terms of profit,” The commander strolled across the room, brushing his hand along a wooden table, “My brother Agua and I had been raised in Valm all our lives, fighting tooth and nail to survive the brutality the world offered to us. I had risked everything in order for my brother to arrive here in Plegia—a cost I would repeat over and over again.”

Soren was slightly regretting for allowing Tharja to brutally murder than man. He was not going to like where this was going to head.

“I was saved by General Walhart, the Conqueror! He is unifying all of Valm as we speak—and his plans do not stop there. I came here to begin to enquire scouts, scouts that will be ensured safe passage and wealth when Valm reaches Plegia’s shores and takes the entire over this continent.”

The murmurs grew louder, leading to conversation after a man pulled Commander Pyro to the side, whispering to his ear. Soren stiffen, suddenly recognizing the man to be the archer that had escaped from earlier. He had returned—oh no.

Soren could only watch as he watched the color drain from the Commander’s face, agonizing realization setting into place. Soren caught sight of his armor rattling slightly, the only evidence of the man inside the armor slowly crumbling. A wintering atmosphere expelled upon the room, threatening to frost over those who reside in it.

The Commander slammed his fist upon the table, the surface cracking beneath his fist, “If you wish to join, prove yourself now,” His frozen gaze lifted, haggered eyes, “We have intruders, kill them—and you’ll be handsomely rewarded.”

“We need to go,” Soren gripped upon Tharja’s arm, “We can’t take on this many by ourselves.” He had thought this was going to be a mere 20 bandits at most, to have 40 bandits plus a commander—they were sourly outmatch. Now with the Commander aware, they needed to get the hell out of there.

Gaius briefly inclined his head, tugging Tharja’s other arm towards his direction. When Tharja shot him a glare, she reluctantly resigned, silently agreeing to the retreat. It turned out to be much too big to handle by themselves. Soren gestured for them to proceed, following on rear to make sure they weren’t followed.

Thousands of thoughts screamed into his mind, cluttering and tossing all the previous ones into the air. War—was war to come again after all that was sacrifice? What Emmeryn, Chrom, and thousands of others had sacrificed?

No—no, he needed to warn Chrom of the possibilities. They needed to get out.

Gaius led swiftly, blurring around each corner, efficiently taking out lone bandits that had unfortunately crossed their paths. Their footsteps hastened when they had caught wind of shouts filling the air. They were getting caught on.

“This way, c’mon!” Gaius gripped upon a metal door, heaving it enough for Tharja to slide in, Soren following close behind. Gaius was beginning to make it in when all the sudden—

“Hey! What are you doing over there?!” Gaius froze in place, slowly turning to find three thugs, all watching the assassin very carefully on his movements. Oh Naga, why did they have to catch up so quickly???

“Heeeeeeeey,” Gaius leaned an elbow upon the latch, drumming his fingers upon his wrists, “I didn’t expect the next round to come so soon, guess that means I’ll just take my leave—”

“Wait a second—that’s the intruder! He’s the guy that stole from the group that came in last night!” One pointed, immediately catching Gaius in a fickle.

“Hey—that was your fault solely,” Gaius defended, “You left it wide open for me to take.”

Gaius slipped back through the crack, Soren heaving the gate from the other side shut, twisting the latch tight enough and with a quick cast of his elfire. The latch oozed and dripped to the ground, halting all hopes of opening that door soon.

“That door is not going to hold. The exit is close by—we need to pass through the caverns!” Gaius exclaimed. The three stayed close knit to one another, somehow escaping past guards that had somehow caught whiff of the bounty now on their heads.

They rushed, entering once more through the elaborate maze. The old mining cavern had leaked with water, filling several paths and blockading potential exits unless one had wish to attempt to best death. Tharja skidded around a corner, her hair tussled as she looked back, hallways dividing in four of options to escape down to. When Gaius and Soren joined her, they weren’t alone.

“Man, I really hate being a good guy sometimes,” Gaius grimaced, clashing with a mercenary. Soren flipped open his tome, expelling thunder upon the other thug to allow Tharja time to cast the dark spell upon the man against Gaius, flinging him against the wall.

“Well, well!” All three turned, catching sight of Commander Pyro reaching them, his gaze calculating and cruel, “I’m no less surprised that my brother had befallen, then to have fallen by the Grand Tactician of Ylisse and his comrades.”

This Commander must have been well informed of who to expect when entering this continent. Soren grimaced, threateningly revealing his new weapon—steel edged in several directions, the blade designed after the lightning it threatens to strike upon all who cross its path. Commander Pyro looked amused upon the threatening stance, a golden laced trident gripping in his hands.

“I expect no less from you then!”

Having expected the movement of Kellam, Soren was surprised to say the least when he was thrown off his feet, tumbling across the dirt floor behind him into a gate. The air escaped from his lungs, quivering to return. His nails dug into the ground, achingly lifting his head finding that Gaius was now acting, shielding Soren from the next move of attack. Tharja had her own hands full, combating against thugs that arrived on the scene.

Soren swallowed, heaving himself up and flipped open his tome, the seal electrifying underneath his feet, “Elthunder!”

Bolts of lightning exploded, zipping and bouncing off the walls towards the Commander. Gaius caught sight, tripping back against the wall to avoid the full blown hit of the Commander. His feet skidded across the four way intersection, his trident digging into the walls. Soren exhaled heavily, readying another spell while he watched Tharja and Gaius push off the thugs. The tight space made for an undesirable fight location but it gave them an advantage at least.

“It seems you have overestimated yourself, tactician,” Pyro regarded, an iron grip upon his trident as he fixed himself to a bold stance, “To have dared take a step within these mountains, to challenge these men—to take my brother’s life. I think you’ve settled for a death wish.”

“I think you’re the one sorely mistaken,” Soren corrected, “You’re over confident in your ludicrous plans. There will not be another war—” Commander interrupted with a painful laugh, stabbing the ground with his trident. Soren gritted his teeth while the man took the time to study his face, grinning knowingly—a piece of information Soren seemed to be out of the loop of.

“There will be, even I die here—there will be a war. Maybe not now, maybe not even a year from now—but there will be war and blood will be shed. If I must die now for those labors of fruits to be realized, then so be it!” Commander Pyro leapt forward, clashing against Soren’s blade, effortlessly overpowering the tactician by brute strength. His boots skidded against the gravel, clinging desperately to make sure he didn’t fall over. Soren checked behind him, hastily leaping back allowing Pyro to tumble.

With the brief freedom, he ducked past the man and ran straight past him, turning sharply past the corner to draw him away from the others. Soren hastily bent over fallen beams, hearing the reverberating gong of armor. Water dripped and leaked from the caverns wall, forming stream along his path to seep out into a large, shallow pool. Soren skid out into the open area, catching sight of the beams, the old mining railings that creaked and ached to the testament of time. Water leaked, droplets landing upon his heated head, instantly sending a shiver from the coolness.

The structural integrity of the room was little to none, raising quiet an alarm. If he were to send a spell towards their direction, it could easily decimate the entire facility. Perhaps…he could work it to his advantage.

With an idea in mind, Soren gripped his sword tightly, tying the ends of his sleeves directly around his waist. Tucking his pantaloons into his boot, he immediately spun when he heard the rattle of armor.

“You think you could out run me in my own hideout?” His voice boomed and shook the dome arena, pebbles escaping from the ceiling. Soren remained calm, keeping a steel grip upon the handle. Pyro stomped forward, a wyvern daring to enter a glass shop with every gnarling step it took, “I think the world has overestimated your skills, tactician. I do not see a war hero, a leader that guided his men to victory over the Plegians.”

The trident laced between his fingers, “I see nothing but a coward.”

“A coward, you say?” Soren repeated, “You do know what cowards means, right?” The Commander did not follow as Soren pointed his sword flatly towards the warrior. Taking nimble steps to the side, he positioned himself off center of the room.

“Cowards are fearful of getting in dangerous circumstances, Commander Pyro.” Soren lectured, “I dive right into these.”

Electricity exploded forth the blade, Soren charging forward to catch the commander by surprise. Commander Pyro blocked his charged attacked, redirecting the sparks of lightning that threatened to damage him. He could feel every strike and club battering against the blade, the very ground vibrating. His magic warped into the very soul of the blade, directing and yearning for a successful strike. Sweat trailed down Soren’s face, flinging off the tips of his vibrant hair. Pyro was formidable but lacking in direct accuracy, leaving Soren several chances of evasion and attacks. Despite his dense armor, it was taking all the necessary damage he expected at this point.

The trident swiped hastily, cutting tendrils loose of his shirt. Soren stumbled back, gritting his teeth as Pyro expelled an exhausted pant. The momentary break allowed Soren to reevaluate his surroundings, reassuring himself of the position he was leading himself to. Not a moment after, Pyro charged again, restless in his movements. His actions had grown sloppy after the initial assault, most likely provoked by Soren’s skillful dodging.

Training with Frederick did seem to pay off after all.

Soren stood his own, countering each fierce strike with a blow of his own, lucky even if managed to hit twice. However, he knew he was at a disadvantage by strength. He could only dance around until the Commander grew tired or Soren himself did. Darting his gaze around, he caught his attention being drawn upwards.

At the rush of a plan, Soren caught the trident downwards and hopped back, building a gap between himself and the warrior. Before Pyro could move however, he was taken aback when he caught sight of Soren’s tome in hand. Elfire dangerously glowed, threatening to make a move at any time. The Commander seemed quickly to follow where Soren was aiming, his eyes darting back and forth between the beams and columns above them.

“You’re mad,” Pyro concluded.

Soren could only offer a cheeky smile, “Reckless would probably be a better word for it. Here’s to hoping this works!”

Soren raised his hand, the seal gleam along his feet to liven his stance. A flare soared up, enlightening all the ancient cart rails and wooden beams as it climbed. Nearing the roof of the dome room, the flame expanded outwards and flourished like a flower at dawn. With gravity finally catching on, the fire rained down, alighting everything it touched. Beams creaked and cracked, threatening to fall when the flames consume enough of its bode.

With Pyro merely gazing upwards, Soren whipped forth his sword and hurled electricity towards the warrior. The commander was knocked back a great deal, hitting against the stone wall and narrowly avoiding leaves of embers to fall on his body. Satisfied with the distraction at hand, Soren hurled forward and launched another assault, weakening the commander greatly. Pyro slammed an ashen hand forth to retrieve his trident when Soren stepped upon the trident, his sword pointed.

“There’s no point in fighting anymore,” Soren professed, “Tell me who is planning this maddening conquest?”

Soren edged his trident further away, glowering at the armored commander. Waiting for an answer, Soren was met with a rather opposite response. Pyro chuckled softly, building up in strength to howls of laughter. Unable to understand, Pyro seemed to catch on to Soren’s confusion, lifting his head with a bemused expression.

“You think you’re so clever. You’ve certainly earned that heavy title of yours, Ylissean tactician,” Pyro exclaimed, “But it seems you missed the fine details…the clues right underneath your nose.”

“What…?”

“My mission is accomplished, regardless if I make it out of here alive. I gathered all these men in guise of my true meeting with a handful. The ones I needed have already left, ensuing my legacy shall not be in total vain.” Pyro grinned, guessing past Soren’s tightened face the shock he was feeling. Soren played it off as best he could when he continued.

“There’s nothing going to redeem it…not if the Shepherds have anything to say about it.”

Pyro laughed darkly, a crazed glint in his dark eyes, “Not if you drown first.”

The Commander lunged to grasp Soren’s sword, the tactician immediately retaliating with a bolt of lightning. However, the man kept a steady grip in the face of the agonizing bolts. Moving with his other hand, Pyro crushingly smashed his fist against Soren’s foot, earning a yelp from the man. Pyro then heaved the sword back, unbalancing Soren and hastily reclaimed his trident. With a mere roll to his back he launches the trident up towards the ceiling, a single shot Soren wasn’t expecting. Catching sight of the trident, it caught right dead center of the surface of the room. Suddenly a crack, followed by more, water spilling out in streams followed by falls until a geyser spewed out.

The fire Soren had alighted had mostly died in the second the water fell, boulders crashing all around with fragments of wood falling. Soren skipped back, avoiding a large stone crashing in front of him. At the sight of the collapsing room, Soren darted towards the entrance he had originally taken, dismayed to find wooden beams of stone were now blocking him access.

Pyro laughed, earning the tactician’s gaze once more, “A fitting end, don’t you think?”

Soren scoffed, hastily taking his chance with crossing the failing room, immediately rushing down the sole exit that was offered. The room rumbled and cracked, the ceiling completely falling apart and crumbling after his exit. Soren darted around the corner, feeling his shoes soaked and the water threateningly rising. A last attempt to halt Soren’s escape, the Commander surely died trying to.

Soren darted at his options, finding the long and winding hallways to become suffocating watching the water continuing to spread and rise. Running as fast as his legs could take him, he grew worried if there was going to be an end to this hall. To his luck, there was finally an end. Soren expelled shakily, finding himself towards a dead end.

Oh Naga, why?

“SOREN!”

The tactician halted, snapping his attention to the side to find a small hallway, another dead end. He ran forward, stopping by the wall and gazed up, surprised to see Gaius peering over a gated opening.

“Gaius?!” Soren called out.

Gaius, a bit alarmed, really peered down, a sigh of relief escaping his throat, “Damn Bubbles, you had me damn worried! What the hell happened?!”

“The whole cavern is going to come down! We need to get out of here!” Soren instructed.

Gaius immediately ducked, a sword swipping dangerously over his head. Soren could only watch painstakingly as he had to watch Gaius fight over another thug. He only imagined Tharja was reaching her brink with the amount of magic she was casting. They needed to get out of here quickly. Soren darted his eyes around then towards the wall, casting his eyes up towards the gate that blocked him from reaching the hallway further up.

How did he found himself in this situation?

“Tharja! Gaius! Find another way out!” Soren ordered, “I’ll get out somehow! Just get out of here safely!”

“Bubbles, you’re crazy!” Gaius hollered.

An explosion rocked the room, Gaius gripping upon the stone wall dearly and growled, turning towards the cause of the explosion. Soren scavenged through his bag, feeling the water begin to tug and pull. Finding an elixir that Stahl had given to him as a gift, he whistled for Gaius’s attention and threw it up, the assassin catching it with ease.

“Go! I’ll get out!” Soren insisted, “I promise!”

“You better hold to that promise then! Else I’ll get Tharja to bring you back so I can personally knock some sense in ya!” Gaius grunted, suddenly brandishing his sword, countering a bandit. He slashed at his throat, pushing him against the wall and darted away, vanishing from Soren’s line of view.

Soren swallowed, biting onto his tome as he gripped the stone wall. He found his fingers slipping from the limestone, unable to get the right footing. Dirt encrusted nails began to bleed through the cracks, Soren pushing himself to grip upon the sleek cobble. Close enough to the gate, he raised his sword and slashed forward. Instead, the sword shattered on impact, large shards escaping and falling to the water below. Cursing to himself, he dropped down, the water reaching to his waist. Painstakingly grueling, he managed to part with a large enough metal piece to resume climbing back up. With his shattered sword, Soren pierced a metal shard into the wall, his palm bleeding profusely as he continued climbing. The roar of the tides below shook his bones, feeling his soaked boots growing heavy once more.

Gritting his teeth, he kept persevering through the pain, through the rising waters that was catching up to his knees. With his precious tome tucked safely away, he pulled away the elfire tome, feeling the flames rumbling within the parchment in his possession. Shouting out the spell, flames exploded and clung to the metal.

If he climbed high enough—

The chamber rattled in an explosion once more, his grip upon the walls loosening as he felt himself slam against the stone and dropping. Plunging into the bitter cold, Soren swam hastily upwards, inhaling dreadfully, his teeth chattering. He reached for the wall again, hoping to climb up further when he realized how close he was to the gate and how close the water was to him. The water crept along his ribs, rising with no intention of stopping. Robes soaked and clung to his body desperately, his nails bleeding and carving itself into the stone foundation. An icy breath escaped his lips, teeth grinding—

He was going to die, that much was positive.

Making a desperate attempt at unlatching the gate, the steel shard continued to batter against the metal. Soren exhaled desperately, the water creeping along the ends of his hair rising to his neck. He kept at it, hoping, needing for this to work.

He simply refused to look back, to all the pain and suffering they overcame. The Shepherds, his family, Chrom’s physical form the only hope he had keeping him going. The miles trekked, the stories they’ve shared, the nights they’ve camped, no—he couldn’t let that end here.

The water reached to his chin and dreadfully Soren took a large breathe, holding it when the water reached past his face, brimming the surface of the gate. Frantic and distressed, Soren bashed against the gate, hoping to even make a dent. To make a move. Something—anything!

Soren’s lungs tightened and his chest clenched, he began losing grip. Darkness gripped at the corner of his vision, becoming all too familiar and unsettling with each appearance. The water was coddling, slowly cradling his grip away from the gates and drifted him.

Drift…

_******************************_

_…Did you know I based a lot of the stories I told you as a kid from this place that bordered between Plegia and Ylisse?_

_What do you mean?_

_Remember all those scary tales? About getting trapped and kidnapped by thugs? The scary mines where you’d be lucky to get out? Waiting for the hero to save the day?_

_Oh….right. I remember that._

_Well, here they are—you think we should check it out?_

_Are you serious?_

_I am—hey! Why are you laughing?_

_I don’t think you took your own tales seriously if you’re suggesting we check it out._

_Oh come on R—n! You’re scared?_

_Me? Tch, never._

******************************

Bubbles escaped from his lips, eyes snapping open in desperation. He flailed within the bodiless atmosphere, unable to detect where he was. He whirled in place, the current swaying his sense of direction. His wit was nearing its peak once again, pushing forth towards the walls. The adrenaline was leaking, escaping while Soren desperately reached for anything. Suddenly gripping upon a wall, he pressed a hand to his chest. The tome breathed for him, gales threatening to escape from their confinement but groaned, the light fading.

Damn it! Damn it!

Gripping upon the wall, he couldn’t help but kick at it, resting his forehead against the wall. The tendrils of darkness leeched at the corner of his vision, threatening to take him under once more—

_Crack_

Soren swam back, surprised to catch light cracking along the stone wall. It spread, groaning under all the pressure when it finally broke through. The water rushed forward, everything moving too fast to figure out what happened. Flipping through the water, his body crashed against solid ground.

“Hehe!” Soren’s eyes lulled and rolled, the dark embrace cradling along his cheeks, speaking softly for him to enter the darkness. The nasal laugh escaped into the pitch of black, echoing. Soren’s lungs began to burn, suddenly retching all the water that was kept within. Instinct heaved his movements and turn over, hurling the water out in desperate coughs.  

“Haha! That’s weird,” The nasally laugh escaped again, pausing, “I was hoping to drown all those bandits but turns out I saved one from drowning!”

Water heaved out of his lungs, burning his esophagus and chest. He gripped upon his chest, his hair swept and plastered against his face. His lungs eagerly took in the fresh air, relieved that he was even breathing at this point. His eyes flickered wearily below him till he caught sight of the pair of boots to his right. Slowly looking to the opposite, he caught sight of several bodies of bandits, severally…. torn apart.

Soren exhaled, unable to believe his luck he was having. The pair of boots merely grew closer before the owner knelt, smiling. Soren admittedly was surprised finding it to be a young man. He had silver locks parted neatly to the right, his pale complexion brilliant as snow. Wearing a long-sleeved shirt, his shoulders covered by a dark cape, Soren could tell he was dealing with a Plegian dark mage. However, Soren couldn’t tell what the man was thinking, wondering why the man hadn’t bothered opening his eyes.

“Hey…. you’re not a bandit!” The dark mage acknowledged, his head tilting, “Well, that’s a bummer.”

Soren gritted his teeth but heaved, convulsing once more. His ears ringed and he barely had the strength to meet the dark mage’s face again, gritting his teeth, “Who—”

“Wow! You can talk even after almost drowning, talk about a let me down. I’m surprised you keep surviving after all these near life death experiences!” The dark mage laughed once more, irritating the tactician. He was ready to assault the dark mage bare handily when another pair of boots joined the scene.

“What are you doing—” A woman—wait.  His thoughts came to a crashing halt, spellbound by her mere appearance. Allusive as a spirit, Marth surely knew how to make her entrances. Remaining in her distinct clothing, her cobalt locks were pinned carefully, her mask distinctively shielding her eyes away from the enemy. Marth had approached cautiously, assessing the situation, “What happened?”  

“Oh—busted open a wall and got a prize!” The dark mage answered cheerfully. Marth seemed tolerate of his attitude, instead focusing her attention on Soren.

“You’re lucky to be alive…especially after what happened before.” Marth remarked, “Then again, it brings to wonder why you’re here in the first place.”

Soren hesitated, his attention glancing towards the dark mage then back to the prowess woman. His thoughts rattled back to the Commander, to the mission he had seemingly fulfilled. Whatever role he was intended for…Soren knew it was of ill manner. He had to do something about it yet he could no longer do it here. He needed to get out.

“A mission to recover my friends,” Soren fibbed, “Chrom is to be married in the next following weeks to Olivia of Regna Ferox and I’m trying to get as many of the Shepherds back in time for it...these two however.” Well, he wasn’t lying entirely about why he was here. That was all true at least.

“Ooo~ A wedding?? That sounds like fun, will there be cake?” The dark mage inched up, grinning brightly despite the circumstances that were surrounding him. It almost disturbed Soren seeing someone who was smiling even if surrounded by death.

Soren changed his glance to Marth, analyzing for anything. A change in features, expression—anything that could lead him to further solve his answers of the mysterious Marth. It had been so long since he had last thought of the woman yet here she stands once more. An enigma, a heroine in her own values, a samaritan that disappear into the thick of the woods. Soren had been puzzled over her actions and her agenda—he wished to know more.

Marth remained quiet, a hum escaping in thought. Her attention changed to the dark mage now, “Thank you again for the help, strange dark mage. I can take it from here if you do not mind.”

Wait, she didn’t know the dark mage yet they were familiar with each other???

Soren raised a brow, unable to understand what exactly was going on as the dark mage whined, slumping into a crisscross position on the floor. He began to recall that she wasn’t being any fun anymore, though he did appreciate the fact she even allowed him to follow in the first place. With that in mind, the young man, introducing himself briefly as Henry, decided to see what other bandits were left in the maze. He declared that it’d be a fun challenge and would give them time to walk safely outside.

Marth didn’t argue, merely nodding her head and Henry grinned, his eyes shut leaving an ominous bloodlust feeling in Soren. Marth went over to the tactician, asking if he could walk and Soren merely extended a hand out. At that signal, Marth clasped her hand around his, heaving him upwards. Soren winched from all the aches his body was going through.

“Follow me,” Marth instructed.

Soren didn’t bother to speak much, wishing to instead recover and leave this retched hell hole. Following after Marth, it seemed she had memorized the labyrinth to an imaginary map. She knew every angle, every path to take and after walking for an unknown amount of time, Soren’s eyes began to strain and flicker from the rays that expelled into the exit.

Stepping outside from the mountain, Soren could breathe in ease. No longer worried about suffocating any longer, he felt a partial weight off his shoulders. Marth didn’t stop however, leading Soren’s brief respite to end and the tactician hurriedly rushing after her. The trek across the dense forest was brief unlike the walk in the mountain. Within a few minutes, they finally reached a clearing, a manmade path leading miles forward.

“Here we are, if you keep heading forward your friends should be there.” Marth instructed.

“Thank you Marth…” Soren paused, earning Marth to look back at him, a visible brow arched up.

“Is there a problem?”

Soren hesitated to ask, wondering if he even should. It would be bold to ask but…it felt right. Taking a deep breath, Soren faced her properly.

“...I had been sent to collect the Shepherds but….I would also like to send the invitation to you Marth,” At the sound of that, Marth’s stance slacked briefly, taken aback, “You’ve helped us through so much—Chrom would want that. I know he would. I think all of us, including myself would be grateful if you at least attended for a few minutes.”

Marth remained still, drinking in Soren’s proposition. Soren had to make the attempt, hoping she would comply, even for a few minutes. After all she had done for them, having given them an extended time with Emmeryn, after saving his life when she could have easily not interfered, risking her life countless times.

Soren wanted her to have a moment of recognition. For everything she sacrificed—even if it’s shrouded in shadows for why she would in the first place.

“I’ll think about it,” Marth complied, “The doors of the city will be open if I were to assume…perhaps I’ll attend—for a short time.”

Soren smiled, Marth reaching to grip upon the handle of her sword, a safety net.

“You seem pleased?”

“A little, yes,” Soren admitted, “I never had gotten a chance to thank you…..for everything you’ve done. You saved my life back in Plegia and if the least I can offer is a nice day in Ylisse…well, it’s a start.”

“Do not think you owe me a debt of some sort,” Marth cut in, “I merely did it for the greater good of your army.”

Soren wished to have pushed it, to keep going further into the conversation and extract the information he sorely craved to know. Yet from the corner of his eye he caught Tharja’s figure, shortly followed by Gaius. They both seemed dry, however Gaius was lamely going through his lower pockets, flicking out what looked to be soggy candy. Soren briefly laughed, turning his attention forward but Marth was gone.

Quick as the wind like always.

Soren sighed, circularly massaging his temples, reassessing his thoughts. He couldn’t remain on the subject any longer. He needed to move on to more important topics.

When Tharja and Gaius finally approached him, Tharja reeling his arm back and gaining a tight hug, threatening Soren with death if he had died back there. Much to Soren’s relief, she gave him the space he needed, merely wishing to know what had occurred. Soren insisted that they start walking, beginning the long trek to the nearest village for a carriage back to the kingdom. With Gaius grumbling, demanding Chrom pay for his loss of candy, Soren at least felt satisfied with the last remaining Shepherds on his list.

Trekking miles, it was not long till they would reach the kingdom and await the days of peace that would come…while they still lasted.


	19. Breath of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, it's been a while. I had to scrap this chapter several times cause in the end, I could not stand loosing either wonderful personalities of the Avatar and Lucina -w- SO, I HOPE THIS IS THE CLOSEST I GET TO RESPECTING THEIR CHARACTER AND GOALS AND FEELINGS. Anyways, more to come, it's happening. Finally, development. Love, war, everything is falling together, bwahahhaha. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the love and I hope you all this next bit that is coming out. Hopefully with work slowing down the next chapter will come much sooner. -w- Forgive me readers, I am the world's biggest procrastinator. Again, thank you to my lovely Keys, and my bestie Criss for assistance and pointers. 
> 
> All in all, enjoy and until next time~

******************************

_Onto weeks, Onto months_

_Time aged those that Abided by its Laws_

_Time ignored those that had Crossed the borders between Them_

******************************

A low rumble crossed the halidom of Ylisse, reminiscent of the thundering blow of soldiers charging forth into battle. Instead of battle cries escaping into the air, jubilant cheers rung instead. Confetti flooded the open area of the plaza, cheers ringing from all the festivities and games lined along the sides. Musicians lined along the stalls, playing sweetening music for the masses to take enjoyment upon.

Soren observed the crowds, basking in the crude differences Ylisse face from the beginning of the war to now. His thoughts rummaged across the streets, recalling the ill-fated looks upon everyone’s expression. He could have only imagined the sheer terror that must have exploded upon the news of Emmeryn’s passing. To imagine such a sharp contrast, it was stunning to see all the smiles, the sweet joy that now possessed everyone.

“Such an auspicious event! To think this day would come!” A woman’s voice rang.

“Ahaha, it’s true! I’m so glad!” Another agreed, her voice smooth and sugary as the delicate substance her fingers clung upon.

Soren’s eyes lifted from his daze, catching sight of the colorful array of balloons, taking in the sickly scent of syrup combining with the richness of meat searing down the road. His senses were nulling, almost overwhelmed by all that was around him.

It was...strange to Soren.

Since waking up on the grass field, he’s only been surrounded by battle, death, and the undead. Even now, a sword clung to his hip, instinct having taught him to carry his weapons on his body, no matter the situation. His tomes rested at home, having a specialist take a look upon his soaked tomes from months prior to repair them if possible. Now unofficially—officially by Chrom’s insistence—he was to take a break from his duties as Grand Tactician. The thought of not working irritated the tactician in ways unimaginable not for the reason of the lack of worth, but…he began to realize he had no hobbies.

Soren slumped his back against the wall, the cloud of gloom easily over his head. He couldn’t help even scanning the crowds, deducing and strategizing in a case of emergency. Gods, perhaps Chrom was right that he needed a break. It was frustrating trying to settle into something other than work. Even the hobby of writing within the journal that Virion gave him became a labor, tasking himself with finding out any hints that tied his past together. It filled to the brim, Soren hastily receiving another blank copy that too almost met its full potential by the hands of the tactician. During his walk, Soren already purchased a third journal, tucking it away within his pockets.

Soren grimaced, rubbing his neck delicately upon his next form of action. He recalled Stahl inviting him to join himself and Vaike in a competition of strength. Soren was sure of the results though, Vaike would surely win …/if/ Chrom didn’t show. Then again, that event wasn’t until the evening, clearly leaving Soren several hours to spare from now to the wedding to that event.

Combining his burgundy tresses back, Soren continued to watch the crowd, appeasing himself to the strange setting. The smiles, the cheers, this is what they were fighting for in the first place. This is what he wanted…right?

His shoulders dropped slightly, a disappointing sigh escaping from his lips. His thoughts were vexing him on the sole day of the year they should have not. His fingers drummed upon his toned arms, results from the long, laborious days training against Chrom and Frederick. Soren hummed softly, lifting his gaze once more.

It was a flicker of a moment.

That’s all it took to catch sight of the unusual shift in the crowd. It was brief…but someone was watching. Soren settled away from the wall, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, attempting to find the figure. The stress of the enemy potentially being here almost set Soren storming into the crowds. Merely taking a step forward, Soren instead was hugged around the arm, nearly causing him to lose balance.

 “Whoa, whoa!” Soren balanced upon one foot, being assisted by the young girl that clung to his arm.

“There you are Soren, we were looking all over for you!” Lissa chided, tugging him back to a stable stance. Soren sighed though his eyes drifted off to the crowd once more, the flow having returned once more. Soren grimaced lightly but kept a blank face, looking upon the delighted Lissa, now having let go of his arm and gripped upon the edges of her dress. Lissa, her hair tied up into her signature pigtails, she wore a shimmering blue dress the tactician vividly remember her wearing that fateful month that Chrom proposed to Olivia.

“What do you think of my clothes? I dressed up a bit!” She swayed the ends, spinning around to show off her dress. Soren smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with Lissa giggling, waving a hand.

“I know, I take your breath away, that’s exactly what I was going for!” Lissa grinned, her smile infectious to those around her. It was a sight that relieved Soren slightly, earning a genuine smile from him when a firm hand clamped on his shoulder. Turning slightly, he saw Frederick out of his armor, adorned in a highly-tailored suit. His hair was neatly combined back, dressing accordingly to the wedding ahead.

“Soren, why are you spacing out in such a place?” Frederick inquired.

“With little sleep, I think it’s expected at this point,” Soren joked lightly, earning a groan from Lissa, her arms tugging at his again. Though small, she was basically bouncing on her heels ready to leave with him in tow.

“Oh, come on Soren, Chrom’s wedding ceremony is going to begin!! We need to hurry up!!!” Lissa whined, tugging his arm once more. Soren laughed, poking at her head, a joke the two of them have kept up with since the war.

“If I’m right Lissa, the wedding is at noon, we still have a few hours before we’re even allowed in,” Soren assessed, earning Lissa to puff her cheeks, pouting. It only allowed for the more teasing side of his personality to poke through, “Everyone is energetic today, I’m not surprised you’re the liveliest of them today!” Soren teased, tugging his arm back to bring her back in. Lissa pouted, perching her small hands upon her hips.

“Well I’ll let you know Ylissesans are usually really cheerful, and I mean, everyone loves festivals!! WHO WOULDN’T BE HAPPY ON A DAY LIKE TODAY!?” Lissa spread her arms and spun, smiling delightfully. Soren could only give half of the energy she was exposing, suddenly feeling very old.

“Lissa, to Soren’s defense, he has only been around us since the beginning of the war. This is Ylisse’s first moment of reprise, of course he’d be surprised.” Frederick defended, patting the tactician’s shoulder.

“Oh, right. This is your first time seeing a festival, huh??” Lissa pestered. Soren merely nodded, worried for when Lissa seemed to grow a determined expression. With an arm stretched out, pointing directly to Soren, he had to take a step back from his face hit.

“Well now I’m making it my mission that you have the best day ever!” Lissa declared.

“Oooh!! I can help too!! I love festivals! Hehehe!” Nowi, a manakete, a descendant of dragons, was surrounded by a crowd of kids, all of them chanting to see her dragon powers. She waved at the trio's direction, her hearing superb and surprising the tactician she even heard them over the chatting of the crowd. Lissa squeezed her way to the crowd, energetcally agreeing to whatever plan the mankete had in mind before returning a safe distance away. After gaining several parent’s approval, she stood in the center of the open area. Her hands fixed upon the crystalized stone, shimmering in the palms of her hands. It was a strange transformation, light expelling and blossoming around her small body, cocooning her from prying eyes. Moments later, sea dragon like wings escaped from the shell of the cocoon. The cocoon dissolved away, revealing the sea foam mankete in her glory.

While the crowds seemed astounded by her appearance, the kids were at awe. Nowi landed on the ground, steam expelling from her parted jaws. Soren had almost forgot Nowi was capable of such transformation, his eyes fixated upon the stone impended upon her scaly chest. With the adults hesitate, one bold child went forward, asking if she can climb on her.

“Yeah, that’s why I transformed~” Nowi’s tail wrapped around the small child’s body, lifting him off his feet onto her back. The boy took account of the new-found height, gazing around and cheered loudly, confirming the safety. The other children ran over, each one taking a chance to slide down her tail, brushing past the fins that followed loosely.

“WHOA! See! Nowi is making this festival ten times more fun!!!” Lissa shook Soren’s arm vigorously, the tactician fearing if she shook any harder his arm may come flying off with her.

“I’m surprised you’re not doing anything about this, Frederick. You would’ve probably be the first to advise against this.”

“Today is a perfect day honestly,” Frederick admitted, smiling softly, “The sky is perfectly clear and a refreshing wind blows. It is a beautiful day, and we are to hold a wedding ceremony. I wouldn’t want to ruin the excitement these children are having besides…” The edges of Frederick’s lips twitched and a forlorn expression temporarily resided, gazing to the sky, “Lady Emmeryn and Lady Phila…would surely have been overjoyed with all that is happening now.”

The brief mention of their names was enough to cool the excitement around Soren.

His mind steadied at the recollection of Emmeryn’s smile, Lady Phila’s affirmative stance beside the Exalt. Yes, he could agree with Frederick’s statement. Lady Emmeryn would easily have been overjoyed, a genuine smile laced across her face, her hand clasped together with Lissa’s who would surely lead her elder sister to somewhere. Frederick and Phila’s duties would never have rested, the two most surely sharing glances of weariness, yet unable to interrupt such a joyous moment.

Soren met Frederick’s forlorn glance, smiling reassuringly in comfort to the tall knight. He knew he couldn’t share the exact pain the knight might have felt, nor Chrom’s or Lissa’s. It was not the same level of pain but from the brief time he had spent with her, gaining her acceptance to access the library, to continue growing along Chrom’s side, to continue watching over her family—it was irreplaceable in his new life. It meant the weight of the world’s gold and much more. It always feels like Emmeryn is walking past them in every step they take in their journey. A guiding voice when lost and unsure of what course to take.

“You’re stressed,” Frederick’s voice returned Soren’s glazed eyes to the present, turning to look up to the knight.

Soren snorted at the suggestion, pressing two fingers against his cheek, his thumb rubbing tenderly at his chin, “Strange hearing it from you, Frederick the Weary.”

Frederick smiled at the quick jab, relieved of the thick tension that held between them decreasing. Frederick leaned over slightly, placing a hand on his shoulder, gripping lightly.

“Good things are happening in Ylisse one after another, and everyone is in high spirit. You on the other hand—” Frederick glanced over, “—haven’t left the library since that mission in retrieving Gaius and Tharja.”

If it wasn’t obvious that Soren slept in the library more than in his room, leaving behind evidence of a pillow and blanket, then he wouldn’t know how to combat against Frederick at this point. Soren couldn’t argue against the knight, gesturing him closer with a beckon of his hand. When Frederick leaned, Soren decided to explain.

From learning about the potential war, Soren spent weeks of non-stop reading; learning about the country of Valm, surprised that it was not as large as he expected. Though the continent was named for the same place, Valm was awfully small, half the size of Plegia and with no source of a sturdy economy. The country was in great shambles from the last time history visited its pages. Yet something seemed strange from the moment Soren sent letters to Virion, the only Shepherd unable to attend Chrom’s wedding. Left behind at the end of the letter, a frantic note left behind for Tharja’s eyes alone. Unable to reap out information with Tharja, a bitter paranoia was left wondering if something was happening back in his home country of Rosanne.

Soren was stuck, unable to confirm his suspicions nor able to relay them onto others, dreading the idea it will send shockwaves of paranoia and anxiety across the healing Ylisse.

“It should be fair to say I’ve had a lot on my mind as of late.” Soren concluded. Frederick withdrew back, settling the hypothesis into his mind.

“I see…” Frederick gazed to the tactician, “have you spoken to Chrom about this concern?"

“I haven’t and you already know why I haven’t. You said it for yourself, Frederick,” Soren leaned his shoulder against the brick wall, his arms crossed sluggishly while a leg crossed in front of another, “Good things have been happening in Ylisse. It may be selfish of me but I want to keep that peace for a little while longer….”

Frederick looked away, assessing what Soren had said while studying the crowd. He maintained a firm fixation upon the mankete whom rolled upon her back, a velvet tongue spilling out from the jaws of the dragon. Children laughed and giggled, sliding down her armored belly to the dusted floors below. Lissa seemed to be amongst them now, commenting loudly about how Nowi should stay in her form forever.

“I understand why you think this is a safe route…” Frederick began, “I don’t condone withholding the information from milord…but…under the circumstances…perhaps within the next month it’d be best to tell him.” Startled by the unexpected turn, Soren relaxed his stance to allow his palms to lay flat against the wall, turning to face the knight properly.

“Really?”

“Yes, perhaps…we should let the quiet remain…for a bit longer.” Frederick relented his grip of Soren’s shoulder, returning his hands behind his back, intertwined to show off his broad stance. Surprised by Frederick’s reluctant agreeance, the tactician felt the anxiety that suffocated his lungs slowly seep out. The ponding feeling still roared in the back of his mind but it settled to a quieter tune. Knowing his judgements weren’t exactly wrong—it was reassuring to hear.

Soren’s shoulders slacked when he sighed, his head dropping forward earning Frederick’s glance back. Though Soren kept to himself this time, merely enjoying the spectacle of Nowi standing upon her feet, Lissa shrieking and grasping around her long neck. Soren laughed, the sensation strange but welcoming to his heavy shoulders. Frederick merely watched carefully from the corner of his eye, unable to deceiver what ran through the tactician’s mind. It was better to be left alone—

“C’mon Soren, Frederick!!! Join the fun!” Lissa giggled, balancing upon Nowi’s back as she stretched her feathery wings, the children underneath at an awe. At that moment, Soren decided to push himself off the wall and jog over, Lissa reaching a hand down to assist the young man up. Yet the minute she did, Soren reeled back, falling upon his rear with a group of children beside with Lissa laughing proudly of her mischief.

“LISSA! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE FROGS!”

******************************

_Marth's POV_

“Ma’am, would you be interested in some free samples!”

“Oh they smell heavenly!”

The crowd and banter around the stoic warrior seemed to echo from years past. Every step Marth took, she relieved the painful present—her present—where fire and screams resonated into the smoked filled night. Footsteps thundered and soldiers yelled, fighting fiercely against the Risen that invaded the kingdom.

It was dreadful.

A living nightmare to watch the kingdom in which she was supposed to protect burn into a hellish flame.

The swordswoman stood tentatively at the base of the village, watchful of those that passed by her. Everyone held smiles and joy that was beyond her comprehension. It seemed unreal to see children laughing and holding hands, running with parents shortly behind. Smoke didn’t cover the streets, nor did fire rage from anywhere. Instead, small plumes of smoke escaped from makeshift fire pits, cooks lining the streets offering satisfying snacks for patrons to consume.

Marth examined the stalls, naïve to the idea something like this could exist. She faintly ignored the offers of food, waving and politely declining when further insisted. She ignored her fleeting wish to enter a boutique, catching eye of a lovely dress that hanged at a window. Instead, she continued following forth…barely recalling the time when she was led away.

Marth’s long, navy strands flowed smoothly behind her, her hair band delicately holding back her bangs in place. Her butterfly mask rested in her bag, deeming it would lead many to be suspicious of her activity here in the castle. Her objective was plain and direct; to ensure nothing was to rot this wondrous day. An entire future depended on every waking moment of this present.

Marth continued to head down the street, her eyes wanning to certain spots, recanting her younger years. A child walking and rushing to the arms of her loved ones. She walked with the grace her mother naturally had, standing firm as her father had. It led her to this moment; this extremely crucial event in history. Her fingers stroked against the handle of the falchion, her eyes glazing over.

It feels so long ago…as if…an entire world away….

_“Oh gods— NAGA HELP US”_

_Blood splattered against the brick, the body falling limp and spayed. Soldiers ran wildly to protect those that they could…a grievous effort with casualty rising higher and higher with no sign of hope. Lucina—princess of Ylisse—was the last one standing in the rubbles of her home—of her kingdom. Blood leaked from the cut on her forehead, her body shaking from the tremendous, dark energy behind her. The falchion was grasped tightly between her paled hands, the only source of hope she had. Her soldiers—the risen—wiped out in a minute._

_“So ends the human race.” Her body jolted, whirling in place with the sword guarding her. The smoke suffocating her lungs, blinding her vision, she could whirl as the menacing speech continued, “The future is built upon the past…but YOUR kind shall never see it!”_

_The princess turned to the side, her insides freezing over when the glow of three, blood orbs appeared within the smoke, the eyes focusing together onto her form. She shook briefly, mustering the courage to stand against the monster before her._

_“…Your mother and father are dead, tiny one.” As if it knew—as if it knew after all the lives it had taken. It was this beasts fault—this was Grima—this was the monster that caused everything! Taking her family away—her friends’—her kingdom—the future itself!_

_Lucina boldly stood her ground while the world around her vibrated and shook, the fell dragon Grima rising, revealing its gargantuan form. Lucina couldn’t control the shakes that quelled through her entire persona, knowing nothing but horror and anger at the face of the creature that started it all._

_“And now it is your turn—”The handle burned within her grasp, raising it while the world trembled beside her. The rage that pent within her soul, gathering at this moment. The same moment when the beast howled, “—TO DIE!”_

_Her yell echoed as loudly, damned to the consequences._

_“LUC——_ TH!”

“Tch!” Marth abruptly stopped, a hand reaching over to grasp by the wall closest to her, her chest heaving from the memory. She had not expected herself to go so deep, not realizing she had continued walking down the opened street. She ran a hand across her cheek, exhaling to reclaim her thoughts and settle it. Inhaling a steady breath, she scanned the area in order to decipher her whereabouts.

It seemed she had ended up walking further through the market, now close to a town square, several vendors setting tents and a stage up, most likely for a performance in the later evening. Balloons slipped and escaped into the air while children laughed and giggled, a strange mankete appeasing to the rambunctious children.

“Marth?” Instead, the woman turned to find a familiar face within the crowd of Ylisseans.

His burgundy hair had lengthened from when she last saw him, now fitting into a small ponytail, his bangs caressing his sharpened cheekbones. He walked tall with confidence, though wonder still held within his deep brown eyes.

Her eyes traveled down, fixated upon the polish of his sharpened sword, following each of the pointed edge, reminiscent of the bolt of lightning crashing down upon the earth. She had seen it once before, recalling the sword having belonged to a previous owner; a certain Mad King. Her shoulders tightened, her gaze lifting off the newly possessed sword, now finding herself gaze upon his armor. Judging by the luminous shine of his golden spaulders and plackart, it seemed he was recently gifted with the additional armor, perhaps to ensure his rise to the title of Grandmaster.

“Ahh…Soren…correct?” She recalled, the tactician smiling in approval, nodding.

“I almost couldn’t believe it,” Soren admitted, “I thought I had saw you earlier, for a bit I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I surely thought you would’ve rejected the offer.”

“I had tempted it, if I were to be honest.” Marth responded.

“What made you come then?” Soren asked, his unclothed hand absentmindly folding up the sleeve of his robes, “It’s a long journey to Ylisse after all…”

Marth’s lips pressed tightly together, cautious of his probe and instead took to looking around the stalls, her eyes ever observant, “I came to make certain this wedding was to go as scheduled, with no intruders or assassins to disturb this peaceful day.”

Marth lifted her gaze, finding the tactican’s hand had slowed, rolling each cloth with careful precision, his mind clearly focused. A moment later, it was diligent in finishing the job, rolled carefully to the scar upon his elbow. Soren seemed to nod at the answer, his nose twitched earning the tactician to rub it briskly.

“I see….do you believe you have reason that something should go wrong today?” Soren pressed, his ungloved hand lowering to the side of his coat, a glimmer of his steel flashing.

Marth felt her chest rattle, doubting her original intentions. She longed to see her parent’s face….to see them smiling, happy. Without the weight of the worlds threatening to crush and take them away. The ambiance surrounding them quieted, Marth exhaling carefully to find the strength to move on. She was doing this all for them, to be able to /have/ a future where they would continue smiling, for her and their kingdom.

“I…do not necessarily trust those who could be attending, is all.” Marth reasoned carefully, “So, I justified coming with the thought of merely laying low…in case something /were/ to happen.”

“You would be quick to act in the event if it did…” Soren agreed, however, the frown that lingered on his face did not seem to fully agree with her. Marth’s brows furrowed together, a grave expression fixated.

“Is there a problem?” The words steadily escaped.

Soren remained vigilantly quiet, pacified in a manner when he withdrew an obsidian carved pocket watch, his fingers delicate when opening the contraception. Gears winded openly underneath the arrow, ticking powerfully to the next minute of time. He closed it a moment later, fixing it within his coat, nodding.

“No, I would not object to your precautious nature…but it does leave me a question in mind.” Soren exclaimed, “Would it be too bold of me to ask, but why fight so earnestly in Chrom’s name?”

Why…out of everyone in Ylisse, he had to hit the nail with marking Chrom. Marth lifted her gaze to his, finding his calculating orbs watching, undeterred even by the known force she was going to deny him. It was too risky to call him out on her known suspicions but she’d have to be patient, watching closely from now on. All the Shepherds were suspects….

“….Perhaps, you do speak too boldly.” Marth insisted, remaining firm on her reluctance to spill details. Especially to someone that was so close to Chrom, she certainly could not trust his word that a soul would learn of her divine mission. At the sound, it seemed Soren’s expression dropped to defeat, his eyes shut closed and a sigh escaping from his lips.

“I apologize,” Soren said quickly, “I rather we not step on the wrong foot, now that we’re speaking in such a closer manner.”

Marth raised a questionable brow, her steps lightly taking her to the edge of a stall, relaxing her palm against the wooden surface, “What do you mean?”

“Marth, you’ve helped us…in more ways than one. Not only you’ve saved my life, twice now, but you had saved Lissa’s when the Risen first erupted, Chrom and Lady Emmeryn’s life during the attack at the castle—and you do it with no answer to your motives.” Marth adamantly remained quiet when Soren faced her, his hands spread out, “It’s not that I see you as an ill omen…but I can see that you know something far graver than you let on. To continue carrying such a heavy burden without letting others come to your aid...I’m a little worried for what thoughts run through your mind.”

Soren’s deduction skills were extraordinary to say the least. To be able to decipher such important aspects of her wellbeing from the brief moments they had met, it was clear why Chrom would want to keep him by his side. Marth kept a straight face, her eyes glancing away, studying the crowd and the people that mingled with in it.

“…..I cannot say right now…” Marth remarked carefully, “It’s too early to act on mere impulse. I trust that you understand my reasons.” Now she focused on the tactician, studying his movements to detect any strange reactions. To grow up with the prior tactician, she was earnestly expected to seek through deception and when a person was withholding something. Studying across his face, she was not met with hard-press resistance, sourly rebutting her efforts of finding something off.

“I do…and I would probably be doing the same,” Soren agreed, bending down to sit along the dirt, a wane smile relaxing upon his face, “I’ve been lectured enough by my comrades more than once for this too. I’ve been reckless; for noble reasons, but they still shouldn’t amass for your wellbeing. I do not know if you work alone Marth, but I would hope that you see us to be allies, or your current allies shoulder some of the worldly burdens you hold.”

Soren’s hands fixated upon thin air, searching for the rays of light to grace his hand. Perhaps…he understood the importance of duty. His deep brown eyes lingered to hers and for a moment, she thought to tell him. To tell him of her mission to save the future and all her people, to save those who should have never died. Her thoughts lingered to her friends instead, recanting their final time together, being allowed the energy and space to make the grand leap into the past. She had hoped they followed…but…

“……….My allies are no where to be found.” Marth finally revealed, finding her right shoulder leaning to the wall, “I had been separated from them for quite some time. Everything I’ve been doing…is in their honor and a greater good that /must/ be accomplished.” Marth found herself sighing, a great weight finally revealing itself to her, “It’s a quest I must accomplish, I put it above all else. Where I am from, events like this—” Her arm extended outwards, towards the stalls that rattled with pans and steel clashing against one another, smoke escaping, children laughing eagerly with parents waiting delightfully in line, “—merely do not happen.”

Soren examined briefly to the crowd, his trained eyes scanning across the crowd. Constantly on watch, he was surely a grand tactician in the making. She did not doubt his caliber or his expertise in the art of war, but something was strange about him. Something Marth wasn’t able to put her finger upon.  Before she could press further, his scrutinize gaze returned to Marth’s, brows furrowing.

“Is this place you’re from…also how you knew about Lady Emmeryn’s attack?” The question was a frigid chill, running down the center of her spine. The tactician had remembered such a small detail she mentioned nearly a year ago, it caught her off guard temporarily. She carefully formulated a response, meeting his gaze.

“It is,” She answered.

Instead of a bombardment of questions, the tactician remained silent, allowing for her answer to sink in. She was unsure what was running through his mind. Instead, she found him turning down the road towards the castle, seemingly fixated on the property. His hands curled and folded along the bent of his knees, his coat swaying, revealing the hanging tomes within his coat.

Who is Soren….and who is he to Chrom?

Her eyes began to fall to his hands, momentarily realizing he had only one of his hands gloved while the other was allowed to be free. A scrutinized gaze passed briefly, but it only lifted when she caught wind of her alias.

“Marth?” Soren repeated, his head facing forth to her, his shoulders pressed against the wall to straighten himself up.

“I’m sorry,” She brushed her bangs away from her eyes, “Were you saying something?”

“I was saying that maybe we should work together, Marth.” Soren invited, his hands finding their way to the ground and easily fixed himself up to stand, “It may seem imprudent, but, if we combine our forces I think we’d make for a successful team. To work with the Shepherds, with Chrom and I—whatever lingering woes you may have, we’d try in our hardest to fix.” Soren lifted his head, smiling softly, “It’s impossible to lift the world by yourself, after all.”

Marth remained stone, her eyes slightly widening at the offer. Her thoughts jolted to the past, recalling several of her friend’s, recanting her lone wolf personality, joking teasing it to the wyvern rider that hid his own face behind a mask. She remembered; remembered the vicious run from across the continent on Mount Prism—that fateful day when she pushed for her comrades to go forth first, following in rear. The day she declared she was to change their fate….to bring back the distant blue skies of the past to their wretched future.

Marth exhaled carefully, studying upon the genuine look on the tactician, noticing his extended hand in the offer. So many thoughts and variables ran through her head, many cried to concede to the offer. The other half raged, claiming it to be a ruse, a trick, that she was being driven away from her mission. No…she couldn’t…she couldn’t herself forth…not yet. She had to steel herself, someone had to go forth and watch Valm before war between the two nations broke out. The tactician knew surely, perhaps delaying the inevitable news to bring peace to Chrom’s mind.

With a determined mind, she shook her head, lifting her gaze to Soren, “…I cannot accept.” Marth finally answered. There was a brief pause when Marth decided to follow with the liberty to push the space between the two, walking towards the center of the street, her eyes longingly gazing forth to the sky, “It’s not to say I would not…want to…but I think it’s too soon. I rather be a benefit to your army then to hinder it…when the time is right perhaps…”

The town around them continued to move, unaware of the serious conversation that was unfolding. It was impressive what little the people could know, living out their days with no worry a dark cataclysm was approaching. To think war was a world away, even with the aftermath of the Plegian war…it would seem it was finally over.

Marth felt sorry, she felt so sorry knowing what could happen in the mere few years if her efforts were not executed. The lives of her friends, her family, everyone’s, it would all be for nothing. History will merely repeat itself; a horror she wishes would never come. Her nails drew up to her arms, dragging slightly in reassurance of her goals. A step echoed in her ears and she turned her head slightly, finding Soren having joined her a few steps to the side.  

“…..Then take your time to think about upon it,” Soren suggested, “I was not expecting you to answer so soon. This would have to come from yourself Marth, I wouldn’t want to force you to do something you’re uncomfortable with. The Shepherds will always be here…and I am sure Chrom would in doubt be supportive if you do happen to join and bestow the knowledge you have.”

It was…reassuring to hear at least. To know at least there was kindness from one of the Shepherds thus far. Even if she had not heard his story, he seemed like an honest soul. Perhaps….getting to know him first will be a great strength in figuring out who was the one to have betrayed her father….her future.

“…….You’re very kind, wishing to aid in someone you don’t even know.” Marth commented, offering a small smile, “I appreciate it Soren, I would look forward to working more closely to you if time calls for it.”

Soren remained silent, a small flush expelling on his cheeks, making the young woman raise a brow. Instead, he turned, scratching his cheek and looking up awkwardly, “I—It’s nothing. everyone deserves kindness after all. I—!”

The bells rang and Marth found Soren’s cheeks to pale, a stricken look to his eyes. He hastily turned, his line of view meeting to the bell tower down towards the castle, hearing it chime once more, alerting for the noon mass—most likely in accordance to the wedding. A wedding he was most likely to attend.  Judging by the near panicked expression and straightened posture, he was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“It’s already that time?! Dear Naga, I’m late, Frederick is going to /kill/ me.” He dusted his clothing hastily, slapping his hand against the fabric to get rid of the excess dirt lingering, “Gods the doors are going to be shut too! All those people!”  

Marth’s lip jerked up, a soft chuckle escaping her lips, “Try the cleft in the castle wall, behind the maple grove.”

“Huh?” Soren nearly fell from mid-sprint, his bangs spraying out and covering his face. Marth was almost impressed that this man somehow had the tactical brilliance to lead an entire army yet still act so immaturely. Marth scoffed, resting a hand upon her hip, a genuine smile lingering.

“The wall had broken before,” Marth reiterated, “I think…it’s the quickest way for you to enter the castle at this point.”

“…..You’re probably right,” Soren blinked, surprised. He seemed ready to take off running again when she caught his fist tightening, turning around once more, “Well…I’ll be seeing you again soon, am I correct?”

“Most likely,” Marth agreed, “but don’t hold your luck to it.”

“Heh…if that’s the case,” The tactician grinned briefly, “Thank you Marth, until then.”

And he was gone.

His darting body squeezed and danced through the large crowd that seemed to be gathering in the streets. Marth remained still, smiling softly with the drawing masses, glancing to the castle. A brief tear slid down her cheek unexpectedly, her chest briefly quaking. She forced the smile, rubbing her eyes gently and sighed easily. Through the buildings and homes, she knew a cart would soon draw through the streets and the people would rejoice.

 _“Long live the King! Naga bless the Queen!”_ They would chant and cry, hope finally bestowing themselves in their hearts. The memory of Emmeryn would be forever immortalized, her last gift to the world. Of hope and peace.

Marth smiled radiantly, the storm in her mind settling into a calm, ‘ _Mother, Father, your wedding has brought so much happiness to Ylisse, I promise you—you will be able to live for years to come. This world would be rid of such great people if I don’t do this.’_

Her cape twisted when she turned, flapping gracefully behind her in the wind. It was time for her to leave Ylisstol, renewed determination fixating on her cause. She would not be too far away from her home, she’d be ready at the moment’s notice. One day she’d be ready to face the Shepherds and find out who amongst them caused the wrecked future, going through Soren will help deduce it…until she can truly clear him of her suspicions. Marth glanced to the sky, finally filled with hope again.

_‘I will challenge my fate, and bring forth a brighter future.’_

******************************

_Soren's POV_

The hedges and trees hid the sneaking tactician from prying eyes. His hands ran along the wall in guidance, careful of ducking his head from hitting a branch. It was soon that he caught hold of the empty space, peering inside to see it led to the courtyard where Chrom was nearly assassinated if not for Marth’s intervention. Soren stepped out into the opened courtyard, sighing in relief that no one else was around. He removed his cloak, folding it neatly and tucking it between his arms. He hastily moved across the open patio, crossing into the hallways and making his way forth.

Pillars decorated with florals and ribbon indicated a sign of direction every corner he took and he had hoped he had at least the priest’s long, unnecessary drabble of tradition and lore under what Naga’s teachings state. Soren fixed his hair in the meantime, hoping no twigs had intertwined with his burgundy locks. Without noticing, he almost ran into someone, saved for the quick work of his hands grasping onto their shoulders.

“Sorry about that—” He stopped when he saw the woman’s curling black hair, neatly tied back in a long ponytail, her bangs neatly hovering over her dark eyes. Instead of wearing her more provocative dress, she wore a conservative black dress that nearly covered every other part of her body…but her shoulders.

“Oh, so this is where you’ve been hiding.” Tharja grinned, reaching and brushing his hands, “after all, you did ask me to be your date.”

Soren lost all the colors to his cheek when Stahl, Gaius, and Sully followed behind, each wearying a mischievous grin. Now his cheeks were growing bright red and he slowly let go of Tharja’s shoulders, resisting at all cost to slap his face in front of the grinning trio. He had fallen for this so badly, he should have resigned right then and there, "I guess I did say that...so you're right Tharja." 

“Wait, I thought you were going to stand with me today, Tharja?” Stahl whined. Gaius was quick to pat his back instead, quirking a grin to the green knight.

“Why not go for Cordelia, Stahl? You have been practicing the violin this whole time for her, after all.” Gaius teased, earning his friend’s cheeks to dust red. Sully laughed, resting her arm on Gaius’s shoulder, leaning.

“All right, all right, come on, save the teasing for later. The wedding is probably finally getting to the good part!” Sully instructed.

“Have you four been walking the halls waiting for the vows to be over?” Soren demanded, his brow quirking up.

Tharja hummed, her arms intertwining around Soren’s arm, holding him closely by herside, “We could have been walking to make sure you didn’t get lost while you went to use the rest room—instead of missing the entirety of the vows.” Tharja suggested, her captivating gaze meeting his. Soren could feel his arm go limp in her grasp and he just……gave up trying to fight it.

“All right, you win, let’s go.”

Now Tharja smiled genuinely, her cheeks dusted pink as she walked (she even skipped for a moment) with the others to the chamber where the wedding was held. They snuck inside, careful to stand not too far from the rest of the Shepherds that were able to attend, listening carefully to the priest as the vows were read. Soren smiled warmly, seeing Chrom dressed in a navy blue suit, finally covering his exposed arm, something Lissa insisted or else Naga forbid she would have sewed it on herself. Olivia, blushing and smiling brightly, illuminating the very room in a sparkling glow.

Finally, after an hour more, even testing Soren’s limits of how much he can hear one read from the entire book, the two were finally named husband and wife, king and queen of Ylisstol. The room exploded in claps, hordes of cheering and shouting escaping from the Shepherds. Chrom and Olivia shared a kiss, both brimming with red cheeks. Rice and confetti escaped into the air, raining down on the duo as they walked down the aisle.

The Shepherds lined the way, clapping upon Chrom’s shoulder, hugging Olivia briefly when she walked by. Soren lined the end, Tharja appreciatively allowing his release when Chrom passed by, earning a wide smile from the newly appointed king.

 “Chrom, my most heartful congratulations.” Soren clasped Chrom’s hand in a firm shake, the king shaking just as strongly.

“You’re finally here! You’re really something for making the guest of honor wait.” Chrom teased, Soren rolling his eyes, patting the back of his hand.

“I was here the whole time Chrom, you’d never know.” Soren reassured.

Chrom smirked, “Oh…I’m sure, I’ll be sure to ask Frederick and Lissa your whereabouts then.”

“Erk…that won’t be necessary….”

Chrom laughed loudly, patting Soren’s shoulder roughly, “Hey, don’t worry, I’m teasing you. Lighten up.”

“Oh I know,” Soren smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Congratulations Chrom, don’t let us keep your wife waiting……or the halidom.” He insisted.

Chrom nodded, briefly turning to look to Olivia, her arm wrapped carefully around his, smiling when his gaze met hers, “Are you ready?”

“…….I think I am.” Chrom answered, Olivia squeezing his arm reassuringly as the duo walked away from the Shepherds, the duo heading out the doors.

It would not be long before the two made their way to the balcony over the long courtyard that connected the castle to the town. Choirs of crowds screamed and cheered into the air, Chrom and Olivia meeting the world as the new King and Queen of Ylisse. The couple smiled to each other, joining for one more kiss, igniting the new hope the halidom yearned for. It was truly a day for peace and love to conquer all the tragedies that occurred. A new light seemed to be dimming upon Ylisse. To hope…it would last. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Haha…it seems all the pieces are falling together,” The fallen sorcerer grinned, darkness gathered within the throne._

_A cloaked figure stood not too far, a spherical memory playing along the tainted walls, “So it does…nothing can change the course of what the future has in store…”_

_“Hmm…that meddlesome princess will become a nuance.” Validar acknowledged._

_The figure did not respond, instead, focusing upon the memory playing. It seemed as if hope and prosperity would rain upon this world with the newly wed. A smirk played upon his lips, laying his tattooed hand upon the wall, "Do not fear…for not even she can stop what fate has in store. It's already written...we must wait and let it play out."_

_"Haha, I see, indulge them in their fantasy for now." Validar cackled, running a thin nail along his chin, "How cruel."_

_"That is how the best tragedies are made," The tattooed eyes glowed, the memory fading away to reveal the blood stained walls, coating to the soles of his bare feet, "We give them hope...only to rip it right out of them."_


	20. Borders Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do do do~ 
> 
> A new chapter is up, mixing with some new stuff as we begin the descent to hell. Hahahaha~ 
> 
> I can't wait. Got a wedding to go to now, please be sure to enjoy this chapter in the meantime~ 
> 
> Until next time kids!

******************************

_Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know._

Pema Chodron

******************************

_“Chrom, you’re certainly filling the seat, I’m impressed,” Soren remarked._

_The royal council escaped the room, withdrawing after a long day of discussing new regulations and laws that would be immitted within the halidom. It was initially a struggle for the young King to be the center of the attention, withdrawing plans that Soren and he crafted the prior night, passably playing off it off from the rest of the royals. It was only when they left that Chrom slumped in his chair, a relieved sigh escaping from the charade. Chrom chuckled eventually within the silence of the room, sitting up in the chair seeing that Soren crossed the wide room, resting his shoulder against the opened window. Chrom joined beside the tactician, watching the diplomats and administrators disperse out the courtyard, resting his arm on the window still._

_“It is expected of me to,” Chrom responded, “I don’t lollygag as I used to.”_

_“I’m pretty positive the new hole in the wall at the Shepherds Garrison is not in this inclusion of lollygagging,” Soren teased, nudging Chrom’s shoulder. The young King flushed and denied the accusation, chiding against Soren’s persistence that the hole was probably large enough that he had accidently thrown Vaike through it. After the laughter ensued, Chrom focused out the window again, a sense of peace resonating from his being._

_“Do you think Emmeryn would be proud of us?” The question, expected and grappling, made Soren turn to his friend, lips parted to answer but slowly closed. He casted his gaze back outside, searching beyond the horizon of the halidom, wondering the same thing. It’s been a year since the Plegian war ended, months after Chrom’s wedding, and now they were working to rebuild and renew the great continent._

_“I’m not sure Chrom…I’ve thought the same thing honestly.” Soren worked up the courage, sighing, “I’ve wonder—through the accusations and bullying—if we’re making a stable difference. One that will out-live us and stay beyond the next generation to keep them thriving and growing. Emmeryn passed the torch onto us—are we holding the fire of her succession to their potential?”_

_“Whoa, Soren, hold on, accusations?” Chrom turned the tactician to face him properly, his brows furrowed together in a knit of annoyance, “Did someone say something again? If it was the chancellor I swear—”_

_“Chrom, I’m fine. I’ve gotten better at deciphering their swindling words and using them against them with my own facts,” Soren defended, “I’ve accepted that I may be of Plegian blood, but you know what, they don’t matter. It’s you and the Shepherds that matter. If you all trust me—that’s all I need.”_

_“Still,” Chrom crossed his arms, frowning, “That prejudice…I know I used to be there…but now I’m working past it. I never realized how tightly wrapped the halidom was to its past now that I see true…”_

_“That’s why we’re here Chrom,” Soren spoke again, “To ensure of a better future. Though it seems daunting and even I’m not sure where we stand…I think we can handle spreading Emmeryn’s message of love and acceptance.”_

_“Two halves of a better whole, right?” Chrom said, smiling and raised his palm open towards Soren, “Emmeryn would be proud of us of what we’ve accomplished so far.”_

_Soren smiled, “I think so too.”_

_Soren reached out—_

**_Bonded…to be halves of a better whole, no?_ **

_A sword pierced through their hands and Soren shouted, gripping his wrist tightly and fell to his knees. He snapped his attention up, expecting Chrom’s vicious glance to find the perpetrator. Instead, he found a hooded figure in Chrom’s place, cloaked in a robe same to his own. The shadow was infinite when Soren leaned to get a better look, horrified when he was met with glowing crimson orbs._

**_Why not give in? This pain will end soon enough._ **

_“No,” Soren hissed, the routine having grown all too familiar._

**_You will submit to me…_ **

_The figure roughly grabbed his hair, tugging it upwards to make Soren face him. He stood tall, the sword disintegrating between their hands but relentless in his grip on Soren’s hair. The tactician shouted, clawing at his wrists for release when he was forced to look up again, this time the figure leaned by his ear—_

**_One way or another, you will join me—we will be whole_ **

******************************

The carriage thudded, Soren’s body jolting in place and nearly knocked his head against the carved window. Mouthing in pain, he gently massaged his temple and lifted his gaze out. Waves hit upon the shore of the port city, sails raised high in the air. Smoke plumes fluttered in the air and even from afar he could hear the sea gulls above soaring towards the port. He tore his gaze away and then looked to his exposed hands, no blood in sight. It was a dream….

“Sorry for that sir, there’s potholes along the road.” The driver apologized and Soren turned to the opening. He remained quiet for a moment before shaking his head, rubbing his jaw and returned his gaze outside.

The dreams were returning with twice the intensity, growing and rapturing. Speaking to Libra and Maribelle about it, they weren’t sure if it was due to the concussion from a year prior or his memories attempting to resurface in odds ways. Odd, murderous ways was more like it. Soren pressed his knuckles against his cheekbone, grimacing. Dark circles were growing underneath his eyelids—threatening to slowly pop the blood veins that resigned there. He was exhausted, and even that was an understatement to how he was currently feeling. Anxious, paranoid, tense, his troublesome dreams were beginning to affect the way he was seeing the world. He’d prefer being alone recently after seeing such horrendous actions against his friends.

They were only dreams…but they sent a terror unknown within his soul.

The carriage rocked along the remainder of the dirt road before rolling smoothly into the city, passing by all the small houses and shops. Soren attention finally averted from his thoughts, casting to the many villagers and soldiers that passed too quickly to analyze. Ferox Port, a charming port city on the coast of the chilling Feroxi land. Unlike it’s cold main land, the coast was warm and inviting, bordering closely to Plegia and close enough for safe travels from Ylisse. It was the place of meeting for which Soren came all this way for. The carriage traveled further through the city, only stopping by the pier, a stunning ocean lay waiting.

The driver stepped off from his bench and opened the door, allowing Soren to exit.  After a quick exchange of currency and instructions on when to return, Soren began to make his way forth. The sea-salt breeze lingered against his cheeks and he readily inhaled, relieved to be in such a tranquil spot. The roads were crafted out of bright, red bricks, stretching out towards the many shops that lined the wooden pier. Many sailors attended diligently to the restaurants, bread and luscious meals settling on the table. Supplies were hauled out onto the port, the harbormaster attending the counts and reassuring each delivery made it intact.

Soren glanced around, catching sight of the cerulean clad soldiers patrolling, scars worn and waned on their jubilant expressions, watching them shove and joke amongst each other. It seemed this port was not affected heavily by the Ylissean-Plegian war, perhaps it was too valuable to toss away. It connected to the large contingent of Valm and Soren had only imagined it was heavily guarded to keep that connection alive. The cruel irony was that protection would be considered for not now. Humming softly to himself, he found himself walking to the port and caught the attention of the Harbormaster.

“Excuse me, do you know when the next ship is to arrive?” Soren questioned.

“Not for another few hours if the seas were merciful upon them,” The harbormaster explained, Soren’s shoulders slumping at the answer. At the sight, the old man laughed, patting Soren’s shoulder roughly, “Do not dwell so much, I’m sure they’ll arrive without a moment’s wait.”

It wasn’t so much the wait, it was just the reassurance of it all. Soren would’ve been calmer if the ship was already at port instead of waiting how many known hours. The tactician sighed, thanking the Harbormaster for his assistance before drawing away, hoping to find a place where he could a wait for the ship. The smell of honey and baked goods enwrapped his thoughts, leading his eyes to a small café, chairs nestled by the windows of the shop.

After the many hours of traveling, he wouldn’t mind settling his stomach with something savory and sweet. It wasn’t long before he found himself sitting at one of the emptied tables, a fresh roll settled in front of him. He withdrew his journal from his coat, settling a quill and ink bottle on the wooden surface. Written within the folds of the pages was the last notes he had made for sending a spy out to Valm. About a month after Chrom had wed, Soren confided the information to him, apprehensive on taking large scale actions so soon with little indication of war. Chrom listened and agreed, noting the bold actions were not needed, especially with Ylisse still recovering.

It wasn’t long after that Chrom would also learn he was to be a father too, leaving Soren to personally handle the investigation. Soren understood after all, if anything, he was happy for Chrom and Olivia to welcome a child to the world. Now that he thought about it…she was due next month...

Soren shook his head, nearly spilling the ink over the bread, stumbling in his chair. Settling his journal back again, he drew into the depths of his notes once more, passing away from the dreaded log of his nightmares, making a mental note to add the new log later in the evening. In the mean time of taking control of investigating Valm, Soren had been sending spies abroad to come back with news on Valm. Recently, the activity had turned for the worse—receiving reports of thousands running, homes ruined and massacres raging. Soren penciled in his thoughts, hoping that the wind would be on his side today.

Time passed slowly of all days, the tactician’s patience beginning to dwindle. Waiting anxiously, he relieved himself by drowning himself in theoretic battles. He strategized and imagined what was necessary to win in a battle, choosing the safety of his allies above all others. He was confident in his skills as a tactician to say the least, he was far more experienced then he was in the beginning. It was relieving that his arduous work and studying was paying off, who needs sleep anyways.

Working upon his notes and strategies, he couldn’t help but notice the time that had passed. The sun drew directly above, the air growing humid and sticky from the ocean breeze. At this point he resorted to removing his coat off, wishing to further soak in the sun. It was funny that he looked so pale at the beginning and now he was nearly as tan as Vaike. Soren scratched his temple, brushing his nails of the ink droplets. The ship was to arrive by this time, surely there was to be no delay…he hoped. After another hour of waiting, his positioning changing at least four times, he thoughts drew outwards, growing curious of his allies’ whereabouts.

Virion had returned home to the country of Valm, he had yet to hear from him. It troubled the tactician considering what was about to awaken across the realm. Sighing softly, his thoughts tore away from the rambunctious archer, leading to Lon’qu, the stoic swordsman who returned to Ferox to train. He had only returned for the wedding, wordlessly embracing Olivia in a careful hug before immediately pulling away, embarrassed. Others such as Panne had been at the wedding as well, but she did not stay for long, instead, leaving immediately after the service to return to the woods that surrounded Ylisse. Soren traced along the surface of the table, the name of another ringing across his mind, unable to fend off the curiosity.

Marth.

Soren felt his chest rattle and released a shaky sigh in its stead. Marth had become a enigma to Soren’s world, unable to put his finger on it. Mystery followed her closely, lingering and cutting to any questions that attempt to shed light upon it. They were allies, that much was clear to understand. Her determination to assisting the Shepherds were unparalleled, stumping the tactician when she had refused his offer to join them. Marth wanted to help them—but it seemed it was at a price she deemed unworthy of crossing. She was warm and sincere in her aid, but grew cold and distant to the curiosity that pitted to her. A wall had been built around her and Soren was barely able to pick up the pieces that were left by accident.

Marth could foretell the events of a catastrophic future, unwilling to further the details. Her admiration to Chrom was unrivaled, even if she’s never said a word about it. It was by mere observation, thee way her posture straightens when she’s in his presence, or the way that she formally addresses him seemed personal. That once in a lifetime ago she had known or admired him. Soren sighed, brushing his chin gently when his thoughts had wandered to the wedding, to the months after of receiving a letter. It was subtle…but he had hoped the exchanging of letters would solidify their future cooperation.

Soren sighed, leaning back in his chair to glance up to the sky above. He wasn’t sure what to think about the subject any longer—if he persisted, he was surely going to gain a migraine. If he had learned anything from his shy and sheepish tendencies around Sully and Tharja, he would do best to leave the matter at hand then make a fool of himself. He rubbed his face, slouching slightly.

“Oh gods, what happened?”

Soren tore away from his thoughts, the rumbling of the crowd around him suddenly growing crystal clear. He found himself glancing out past the pier and onto the ocean, catching sight of a boat—but something seemed amiss. Sitting up straight, he caught sight of a vessel drawing closer to the port, clearly the colors held high of the Feroxi kingdom. Yet his eyes narrowed upon the sails that drew upon the horizon, tattered and roughly held together in place. Soren rose out of his seat, the murmurs and talks beginning to erupt around him. It was the ship—but what happened?

“Perhaps pirates?”

“Could it be…the Valmese?”

“Tensions have been growing after all.”

 Some soldiers drew closer to the port and Soren waited till the ship finally made land. The plank connected to the port and quickly soldiers went to investigate. A small crowd had drawn, examining further upon the shattered holes along the side of the ship. Cannon fire. Soren quirked his lips, his eyes lifting when the soldier were quickly bringing someone down, calling for everyone to divert or get the town’s doctor. The sailor’s skin was pale, death looming over him. They rushed him out, two other sailors following in the same direction before finally those that remained began to stumble out the ship themselves.

Dear Naga, what had happened?

The sailors seemed too shaken up to speak, some muttering incoherently to each other, another brazenly shouting the Conqueror would come for them all. Soren watched at the men were taken away one after the other to be treated before looking at the plank. His spy should have been on this ship—he was sure of it. Someone else was boarding off, Soren lifted his attention up, his eyes widening.

“Marth?” By the grace of Naga—why. He jinxed himself thinking about her.

Marth boarded off the ship, her hair had grown since he had last seen her. He noticed the scuffs of dirt and blood that lingered upon her sleeves and on the edges of her collar. She had engaged in combat before boarding that ship. Maybe she defended it from the attackers, it was unclear, but her eyes lifted across the crowd, sharpened and scanning. It was instantly locked onto his own, a solemn expression resting on her face, as if she knew he was going to be here waiting. Soren glanced briefly around before stepping away from the growing crowd, returning to the café he had waited patiently at. It was in a few minutes Marth joined him, her hand resting upon the wooden surface, catching his attention.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Her voice soothed, firm in her objective.

“No, not at all,” Soren moved his items, glancing up, “It seems we have much to discuss after all.” Math gracefully took the opened seat, brushing her winded hair. She removed a silver hair band, her fingers working diligently to comb her hair back properly. Soren flushed faintly, wrenching his eyes away to look to his notes, “First off, are you okay?”

“Nothing I could not handle,” Marth regarded the subject, her eyes catching sight of the dried blood along the cuffs of her shirt. Absentmindedly she rolled them up, crossing her arms against her chest, “It was pure luck we made it out to sea in time.”

“I see…would you mind opening up on why you were on a ship that was returning on Valm?” Soren pressed, his fingers reaching for the quill and brushing the feathered end. Marth tucked her hair band back to place, her bangs neatly tuckering around her face, a serious expression lingering.

“I happened to be in Valm investigating their movements.” Marth explained.

“Oh?” Soren leaned back, his thoughts occupied once again, “So that’s where you been scouting for the past months from the letters?”

Marth nodded once more, “I was, you may recall from the incident with Commander Pyro, the Valmese army had been conducting a campaign to unite the entire continent. Entire states and countries within had been conquered and its citizens laid to slaughter.” Soren frowned, confirming the fears he had held since the beginning, “I made haste to return, to contact you when instead I came across your spy.” A frown possessed her lips, the creases upon her forehead forming. Soren’s shoulders slouched, already growing familiar with that expression. Frederick and Chrom seemed to share that look when unwelcome news was passed around. Soren properly sat in his chair, his fingers curling and clutching at his knees.

“The spy never made it out Valm, did he?” Soren concluded.

There was no further need to linger, Marth merely nodding at his statement. His mood sunk and he sighed, rubbing his face with his palm, groaning softly. It would be difficult to explain to Chrom for this causality, however, by the sounds of it, it was going to be a difficult conversation all together. Soren straightened his back, sighing softly and gazed to the cloudless sky, finding it difficult for the world to appear clean and crisp.

 “I only managed to catch him at his dying breath, they had known he was spying on the empire. They cut off access at the port…it is why I traveled in his stead.” Marth revealed, “You and I share similar goals—I would not hinder your efforts to stay informed…and with the news he held…it’s best you’d return to Ylisse as soon as possible.” With a hand digging into the sheathe of her sword, a note was tucked out, “He left this for you…”

Soren took the note carefully, unfolding it,

_Grand Tactician,_

_The Valmese armies grow and in so, ravages across the land can be heard far and wide. I escaped Rosanne---the latest country to be attacked. The duke stood no chance—barely able to hold off their forces while he gave time for his servants and people to escape. It was pure bloodshed—I make haste to the harbor. I fear I will be met with great resistance, I made this letter in case my words cannot reach yours. Heed my warning—inform His Majesty immediately!_

_The Valmese armies intends to reach our borders soon enough._

He folded the letter shut, crumbling the note into a ball. Figment hands rested upon his shoulder, weighing his thoughts heavily. There was no time to waste, he had so much work to attend to. He glanced down to his hands, squeezing the ball of parchment. At this rate, getting back to Ylisse would take another two weeks. He had to send a letter to Feroxi first before returning to the castle, the Feroxi were the most at threat of a Valm invasion. Khan Flavia would need to be informed and send additional patrols as soon as possible.

“Their armies amass above hundreds of thousands from what I’ve seen—it’s too early to say, but Ylisse and Regna Ferox needs to be prepared as soon as possible.” Marth chipped in her own thoughts, Soren nodding in agreement.

“…Then I have to make haste then.” Soren stood from the chair, fixing the collar of his coat, “Thank you Marth, truly. If there’s anything I could do, you’ve been of unfathomable support lately.”

Marth smiled softly, “Think nothing of it, as I said before. We have similar goals and I trust you understand...” She paused, a brief flash of an expression eclipsing. Soren wasn’t able to make it out, it disappeared as fast as it came and she shook her head, her lips pressed in a steady expression, “Sorry, perhaps I should head out now.”

“Marth, are you okay—” An explosion rocked the very foundation, Soren gripping on the table from the sheer force. Marth was on her feet, her cape flapping back from the roar of wind escaping from the burning pier. Hundreds began escaping down the brick street, shouting and screaming when another explosion rocked—cannon fire. Soren scoffed loudly, hurrying against the stream of the crowd and force his way to the harbor. Two craters of fire burned and cracked towards the buildings and Soren casted his gaze towards the water, narrowing his eyes.

“Where is it?” Soren darted to the edge of the wooden walkway, holding his arm above his face, ignoring the persistent heat blasting. Clear as day, the red sails of a large ship were drawing closer, at least a mile and a half away from the shore. Soren gritted his teeth, catching Marth joining beside him, “We can’t afford that ship to make land.”

“What can we do then—with little soldiers and hundreds of civilians running—we don’t have much to work with, Soren.” Marth pointed out.

Soren darted his attention around, focused on the soldiers that assisted the elderly out of their homes, the men and women that darted away with children in hand. He frowned, scanning around the port, noting there was scarce equipment to be used at hand in the range they were at against the ship. The only thing that was suitable for the task at hand was the ship. His body began to move forth on their own, running as fast as the idea that began to formulate. His feet thudded against the wooden plank, hurrying across the wooden deck. Two cannon laid docked and ready to be used. Soren instead turned and rushed under the deck, gripping onto the ropes and peering down. Cargo of all sizes lingered about, dark paint written over with a cautionary tale of explosives. Soren rushed back to the deck, gritting his teeth when another cannon fire barely missed the ship, crashing to a building instead.

They were going to have to hurry. Unless they wished to blow to the heaven’s above. Soren reached the top of the deck, Marth having already joined on the ship, peering out into the crystal water, “Gods, that ship—”

“You recognize it?” Soren called out, making quick work of the rope that laid upon the deck. His feet were running a mile a minute when he found himself ducking underneath deck, hulling up a large keg of powder, the black powder escaping down each step he took into a massive pile beside him.

“When we escaped from Valm, we had thought the Valmese would sent a fleet after us. Treacherous waters proved ill to those that chased after us—but it seems one ship escaped the maelstroms after all.” Marth frowned and confirmed Soren’s worry. Valm is growing dangerous, already showing off its intimidating prowess. Soren bit on his lips, tossing the barrel back down the steps, hurrying to another side of the ship. With the powder loosely by him, he began to coat the rope and preparing the cannon again. Tying a loose cannon ball upon one another, chaining them with metal, catching Marth’s attention, “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to hit that ship and take its mast down,” Soren declared, wrapping the chains tightly. He unfurled his tome, calling out a small burst of fire, melting down the metal chain to hold the cannonballs together in place, hoping it was smooth enough to enter the cannon. There was a moment of silence while Soren heaved the cannonballs together into a cannon, surprised they managed to fit.

Finally, Marth called loudly to him, “Are you mad?!”

Soren smirked, having anticipated the response, “I’ve been called that far too many times now. Now come on, they only tied the ship instead of laying anchor, we have to catch the wind while we can.”

“Have you ever captained a ship?” Marth pressed when Soren ran to the wheel, almost intimidated by how large it was. Instead, Soren gripped it tightly and turned it, the ship rocking towards the direction. He grunted briefly from the rough start, his eyes casting out towards the pier, noticing the rope that held down the ship from leaving the dock.

“I’ve /read/ how to captain a ship—this is the first time trying to.” Soren admitted openly.

“I’m skeptical of your confidence,” Marth flat out said.

“We’re okay,” Soren joked, “we’re okay.”

Soren found himself catching her glance, seeing the look of disappointment and judgement. It almost matched Frederick’s to a T. Soren chuckled, releasing hold of the wheel to head down to the lower deck. Brandishing his fire tome, he called out the flames to burn the ropes that held the vessel on one side. Marth hacked at the ropes on the other, the turning ship jolting in place. On the cue, Soren hurried up the steps and let loose out into the open sea. Despite the tears in the sail and damage by the hull of the ship, it was gaining speed in the open water.

Navigating the ship was difficult, considering this was the first time he’s even gotten so close to a ship—much less take charge of it. It rocked and constantly attempted to tear away from his grip. It took all his strength to keep it straight, much less letting it lose to turn at the mercy of the wind. The Valmese frigate was massive compared to the gawky schooner they commanded. It gave them the advantage of speed upon the choppy waters, the frigate unable to completely move with the command of the tides, preferably cutting through it with resistance.

Soren held his stance carefully, looking past his shoulder to the frigate, turning the wheel counterclock. Cannon fire drew at them but the ship luckily escaped past the first round. His hair whipped in place of the spraying sea, narrowing his dark eyes to the ship. It was a dangerous game to get the ship to turn around, forcing sharp and rough turns. He braced for the grace of impact the ship took, counting down to his luck to hold off the Valmese fire. The ship cut through the chopped water, rising and falling back into the ocean after each wave. At the speeding rate, Soren was going to have to time it.

“Marth! Take the wheel!” Soren ordered, the warrior spinning around from below. She rushed to the top deck, unease in her eyes. It was clear she too had never drove a ship, but it didn’t stop her from reaching for to grab hold of it, allowing Soren’s hands to be freed.

“How do I turn if need be?” She questioned hastily.

With quick and precise instructions, Marth had the ship turning to avoid the next fire of cannons that came their way. Soren complimented and seized the opportunity to run to the lower deck. Soren’s steps were haste when he reached the bottom of the steps, his boots digging and sliding across the slippery deck. Water sprayed into the air from Marth’s sharp turn of the ship, the Valmese ship firing at their direction. His body slid across the desk, his shoulder ramming into the heavy cannon. Mouthing painfully, he lifted himself to his knees and gripped onto the cannon, heaving it into place.

“Can you get us closer?!” Soren shouted over the howls of the wind.

Marth did not meet his gaze, instead, her body swaying in the direction of the wheel. The ship sharply turned and Soren held on fast. At mercy to the turn of the ship, he could only watch as the ship pointed away from the Valmese, the cannon poising precisely towards the ship. The Valmese ship drew closely, Soren ignoring the potential boarding they could face. Instead, he pressed his palm down to his soaked cloak, the golden glow of the seal alighting underneath his feet. A small spark escaped his fingers, lighting the fuse to the cannon. He held in position until the fuse drew close, immediately pulling himself away and slamming his hands over his ears.

**_Boom_ **

The cannon ricocheted back from the intense force, Soren stumbling back. He casted his gaze outwards, alarmed from how fast it took to watch the cannon fire spiral and twist across the sea. It spun till catching the Valmese mast, wrapping itself poisonously around and with a sickening crunch, the mast broke and crumbled. It remained in place before falling forth, crashing down upon the lower deck of the ship. Even from where the tactician stood, he caught sight of the deck visibly cracking, a cannon loosening and falling forth into the sea. The sound of men shouting in disorganization escaped from the deck. A fire seemed to break out onto the deck, probably from the mast crushing explosives that were held on deck. Through disheveled locks of his hair, it was quite clear that the Valmese ship was out of commission.

Soren wiped his forehead, exhaling in relief over their luck. Today was a mixture of tactical brilliance, luck, and plain stupidity. Soren combed his loosened hair back, catching from the corner of his eye Marth joining on deck, her attention focused upon the burning Valmese ship.

“Should we finish the ship off?” Marth questioned.  

“No, the point of this was to disarm their cannon fire. By the time we’re back to shore, the guards will have organized and evacuated the town.” Soren instructed, “I’d rather stay my hands from further bloodshed just yet.”

There was a pause, suspended in time over the crackling of the ship in the distance. Soren was worried for what was to come…if the Valmese were as bold to send ships after a mere merchant ship…what will they do when word reaches out back to the mainland. War was surely to expel again. At the state Ylisse was in….and for Chrom to be a father soon at any day….

“What will you do then? After returning to shore?” Marth’s voice brought the tactician back, thankfully breaking his overthinking habits. Soren rubbed his face in a tired manner, his digits stretching upon the wooden rail.

“I…I have to head to Regna Ferox. This city is a part of their dominion and for the Valmese to attack so close…they have a right to know first. After conferring with them, I’ll send word to Ylisse for Chrom to come. That’ll at least take a month to prepare for…” He found himself muttering, planning, seizing the thoughts as they came to start organizing his next steps.

 “Then I’ll accompany you.” Soren stopped pacing in place, turning to catch Marth glancing at him. He almost had to double take the offer, resting his elbow upon the railing and stare questionably.

At the expression he forced on, Marth’s brows furrowed together, “If Valm had gone this far, I fear that more like Pyro will linger in this continent. I have no doubt you can take care of yourself sir, but I’d feel safer to accompany you on this journey. The Shepherds will need their tactician more than ever and it’s important you make it in once piece to Regna Ferox.”

Yet again, Marth extended her help to Soren. He’d gladly take it time and time again, but now curiousity lingered to her motives. What

“…You make a fair point,” Soren agreed, “Then let us get to shore and rendezvous with the captain.”

******************************

It did not take long for the duo to regain control of the schooner, drawing it back to the shore. They made haste to get off, knowing the ship was greeting its last day when water began boarding it. Not too bad for a first time sailing a ship—at least they didn’t sink in the middle of the ocean instead of the pier. With the ship sinking and being tended to, their focus was upon organizing the remaining guards and recruiting the reinforcements that came in droves to aid the city.

Several bodies ended up swimming to shore, immediately arrested upon gasping for breath on the shore. A fishing boat was cast out into the sea to pick up the remaining Valmese soldiers that might be struggling out in sea. Marth rallied the men and instructed on their next course of action, the men quick to follow at her command. After hours of working together, civilians were soon returning to their homes, relieved that the battle did not worsen. Guards attended each corner of the streets, Marth and Soren lingering by and indulging the curious citizens on what had partaken in their absence. Many thanked Soren and Marth’s courageous actions, some offering them treats and elixirs to take on the long journey they had ahead.

It was strange still being gifted for doing the right thing. Soren couldn’t deny all their insistence, his hands bound by a basket filled with rolls and sweets of all kinds. The rolls surely were a treat but he wasn’t too sure for the treats. If only Gaius or Stahl were here, the duo combined when it came to treats was monstrous. Sully cannot handle their behavior, somehow stuck taking care of the two of them. If they were here now, surely Soren would never hear the end of it from the proud knight.

Soren chuckled softly at the memory, “It’s been quite some time since I’ve been giving loads of gifts as thanks.”

“Is that so? Oh no—no thank you!” Marth lingered by his side, trying to persuade a couple from further handing her gifts.

Not even Marth was able to escape, already entangled with odd gifts such as a stuffed bear, an insignia of the Feroxi kingdom, and….a rather particular looking dress. Soren’s brows furrowed together, almost taken aback by the pokka dot shapes that held Emmeryn’s face on them…. he wasn’t much for fashion but it did certainly stand out. Not even the young woman could push away the couple’s insistence, a bouquet of flowers lingering in her arms along with the other mass of items. The civilians seemed to finally begin returning to their homes, the duo waiting patiently for the promised carriage the guards offered to them.

It would take them closer to their destination but once they hit the region where snow began to fall, it was on their own from there. Soren leaned his shoulders back against the wall, tearing a piece of a roll to indulge on, savoring each bite while Marth seemed to settle her items along the ground beside.

“I do not know what to do with all of this…though the dress is cute…I’ll admit.” Marth admitted, the tips of her fingers lingering along the fabric. Soren pressed his lips together, swallowing roughly, afraid to comment. It only got worse when Marth actually turned to him, holding the dress in his direction, “What do you think of it?”

“Err…it’s certainly…something?” Soren commented, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean, if you like it, that’s what should matter?”

“Heh, I suppose you’re right. Maybe I’ll hold on to it then,” Marth remarked, folding the cloth into her arms. Hopefully she would not wear it anytime soon, or Naga forbid he’d have to bite his tongue. Soren found his attention lingering to her, his fingers tearing into the bread but not indulging on it yet, his thoughts working.

“You like dresses then, Marth?” Soren tilted his head, smiling, “I never suspected you to be the type that would.”

Marth smiled initially, kneeling to collect the remaining presents, her thumb brushing along the stuffed bear’s sewed lining, “I used to…when I was young. My mother loved having me in these frilly, flowing dresses, they were all sorts of beautiful shades of what spring would be. Blues, pinks, oranges, I suppose…that stuck with me even now.” Soren caught sight of her picking at one of the flowers, bringing it to her lips, inhaling carefully, as if she’s never seen such flowers in decades. Her fingers fiddled with a withered flower in the bunch, plucking the drooping petals delicately. He watched the warm expression wash away, her lips dropping into a line, the delight that lingered fleeted far too soon.

Marth, if only he could help her, wondering what plagued her thoughts that made a smile like hers disappear. _What happened…that made the life in your eyes go…?_

“Soren?” Soren snapped out of his trance, blinking wildly finding Marth staring concerningly at him, the flower petals lingering at the base of her feet, her occupied thoughts returning to the present. He found him flushing, scratching his cheek and taking a step back, “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, sorry, I got lost in thought.” Soren quickly admitted, embarrassed to even show his face now. This was starting to become worse than Tharja’s constant attention on him. His concentration averted to the side when the sound of hooves clacking against the street rung. He turned, finding the appointed carriage showing finally, the driver greeting Soren. Soren smiled, catching open the door of the carriage and turned to face Marth.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, we should make haste,” Marth agreed.

Marth entered the carriage, settling herself at the furthermost corner while Soren sat the opposite, closing the door behind him and calling the driver. A few minutes passed and eventually they began to set off to their next destination. Soren watched the sea-port lingering away from his view, mesmerizing the luscious sunset that drew upon them. He couldn’t help but glancing beside him, seeing Marth glancing to the gifts presented to her. He wasn’t sure if it was reckless of himself to invite her along…but his thoughts were beginning to interfere with his logic. Soren was genuinely curious about Marth…though he did not know what would come out of trying to find out.

 Marth’s gaze hovered over the white flowers that mingled and popped in the bouquet, a semblance of a smile forming. Soren glanced up again, the warm color of red and orange washing over her face and hair, revealing someone entirely different from the hardened warrior he had presumed to know. Soren blinked slowly, returning his attention out the window, exhaling and leaned his head against the glass.

What was going on with him?


	21. Treading Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh haaaaaaaaa I'm here again -slumps around everywhere- Thankfully this chapter is done and please do excuse the spelling errors if there is any. I kind of skimmed over again before dashing to work this evening. Most likely it should be fine. WHELP. WE'RE FINALLY AT A HALF WAY POINT IN THIS STORY. Ha, ha, ha -w- Half way, good job. We're finally entering the Valm arc and all the madness that is to follow with it. Of course, this is also the point of the story I'll be making some weird, hopefully good transitions with explaining of lore and why Soren (or mostly why Robin/My Unit) was the one that has to be the one that faces these things that are to come. 
> 
> Hopefully, maybe, we'll see--still researching and considering Fire Emblem Echoes gave us some background stuff, I hopefully will incorporate some of that into this. SO, BUCKLE UP KIDS. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING BUT IT'S GONNA BE GOOD. That much I can promise. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and I still look forward to advice on how to improve this series so feel free to drop a comment below if you choose to do so! Thank you again and I hope to see you next time, enjoy this chapter kids~

*****************************

"You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories."

Stanislaw Jerzy Lec

*****************************

_Soren_

_Soren_

_“Soren,”_

_The mage cracked his eye open, the carriage’s rocking subsiding. Marth was looking down at him, having exchanged her seat from the furthest corner to beside him, her locks barely hovering his face. He blinked blearily, trying to comprehend if she was there or not._

_“Are you all right?” She questioned, “It looked like you were having a nightmare.”_

_No wonder he was feeling like crap right now. Soren shut his eyes painfully, yawning. Marth moved to the corner of the seat, Soren sitting up properly to fix his own loosen hair, remarking how long it’s grown as well._

_“Sorry, I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep,” Soren apologized, his fingers picking at the grain of sand at the edges of his eyes._

_“It’s fine, I had taken watch in the meantime,” Marth regarded, her arm lazily leaning over her bent knee, her head fixated out the moving window. Trees shadowed in the darkness slithered briefly, the cast of moonlight revealing their true nature, “We should be there soon, at least another three hours. Then it’s on foot from there to Fort Ferox.”_

_Soren yawned again, nodding with a quick wipe of his mouth. It was nearly two weeks of traveling by carriage, jumping from one another, making camp, helping those in need. It had been a difficult journey…but now they were close to their destination._

**_“Or are you?”_ **

_Silence engulfed and warped the scenery a petrified world. The carriage had halted in time, Marth’s gaze captured perfectly towards the outside. Soren himself couldn’t move, finding his arms shake and his fingers barely able to curl to the inside of his palm. He clenched his teeth with forced effort, his eyes freely darting to the seat across. It was none other than the cloaked figure from the other dreams, here to torture him again. Soren gritted his teeth, huffing in aggression when he tried to force himself to move again. The cloaked figure seemed to be admiring the situation at hand, his hand propping his shadowed chin, his voice soothing, **“You’re surprised of my presence?”**_

_“Why are you here?” Soren lashed, bracing against the invisible chains, grunting in pain._

**_“Why can’t I?”_ ** _The being demanded, **“Your dreams are so…accessible.”** _

_The being lifted himself from the seat, pushing forth the door to the outside. Soren half expected him to fall into a pit of nothingness but the figure remained upright, instead exploring the vast darkness the outside had to offer. Trees seemed to linger in the vast darkness but they were malicious, ready to tear from their roots and strike the very ground one stood. The moonlight, the only source of light in this slowly awaken nightmare, shone bright enough to detail the coat of the figure. It was like Soren’s…tattered and torn…having seen many years of violence and brutality. Soren narrowed his eyes, noting the tall figure turning, his broad shoulders shaking exaggeratedly when the man laughed._

**_“I mean…look at this. You have an ingenious imagination…”_ ** _There was a pause when the figure faced towards the carriage, his stare far past Soren’s, **“Even that young woman—that glance of determination towards the outside—very keen observation.”** _

_“Shut up!” Soren hissed, earning a bemused response from the figure, his hands lifting over his scrunched shoulders, mockingly pleading for mercy, “You’re what has been haunting me—since the beginning of the Plegian war!_ _What are you?!”_

_The figure’s shoulder relaxed in his stance, **“Haunting is a very loose term. Guiding—perhaps that’s a better expression”** His bare feet carefully stepped in front of another, drawing closer to the opened carriage. Soren struggled in his frozen state, irritably and seething when the figure placed a foot in the inside of the carriage, resting his crossed arms upon his bent knee, **“I’m sure you’ve noticed already—you’re just not quite there yet to fully comprehend this glorious moment.”** _

_“Comprehend?” The words were fire upon Soren’s tongue, “Comprehend your riddles and delusionary games!?”_

_The figure smirked, expecting such an answer from the riled tactician, **“I’m not going to spoon feed you all the answers my dear friend. I’d half expect a tactician of your caliber to have figured this out by now—”** The figure’s dark eyes glinted maliciously, a red hue escaping from the darkness of his hood. Soren gritted his teeth when the figure leaned upwards, closing to his face, **“—but that’s what makes the game so much fun.”** _

_Soren felt a tie teeter and snap, his hands hurling forward to the violet collar the figure wore. His fingers phased through and shortly after his body fell through entirely, rolling onto the snowy surface. His teeth chattered, clumps of snow clinging onto his locks, impairing his view of the waning figure._

_“ **You desired memories are close at hand, Soren. Choose whether you wish to know the truth—or relish this falsehood you’ve created.”** The figure turned, his upper body crumbling into snow and shadow, whisking away into the shadow of the night—_

_*****************************_

“Soren?”

Soren jolted in place, his body laying fully upon the seat this time. His hand found the floor and his fingers curled in the fur material, relishing the texture, the realness. Soren swallowed and shut his eyes painfully, the throbbing headache rocking as much as the carriage was currently experiencing. Marth was looking down at him, sitting in the center of the seat across of him, her sword resting upon her lap. The focused glance remained in her eyes, shadowing the lingering doubt or distrust she held towards him. He blinked blearily, trying to comprehend if this was truly real. Sweat trailed down his face, barely dropping down from his chin when he sat up, wiping his face hastily.

“Are you all right?” Marth questioned sternly, “You were having a nightmare from the looks of it.”

“Yes,” Soren shut his eyes painfully, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Unfortunately these are rather normal for me. It’s nothing to fret…”

 ** _“He’s right—”_** Soren’s breath halted, his eyes lifting to find Marth’s frozen expression, a question about to escape her parted lips. Soren turned to the right, reeling to the furthest corner of the seat when he found the figure there. This time—something unholy surrounded his figure. A suffocating darkness that clawed and reached at his chest—scratching at the wall of his mind—demanding entrance, **_“You don’t have to worry, princess.”_**

Soren paled, his back pressing and arching for escape, the figure turning ever so slightly in his direction, **_“We’re only getting started.”_ **

_“NO!”_

_*****************************_

Blood. Fire.

The screams engrained in his mind were nothing to the horrors that seized him. That thrusted him into a plane of existence he had no knowledge of. No control of.

Soren’s body thrashed left and right, clawing and digging into the seat. His jaw opened painfully and shut. Umber orbs snapped open, sweat and tears poured in crevasses and rivers down his cheeks, blinking rapidly. He heaved, catching sight of Marth sleeping—peacefully resting her head against the glass, her silver hair band resting beside to allow her long hair to flow at ease. Her chest rose gently, countering his own erratic breathing, the disbelief that expelled from his eyes. Was this a hellish dream again?!

Soren pitched himself, then again, again. He couldn’t stop till the skin bruised and throbbed a bright red, a purple bruise beginning to form on his arm. Soren glanced at the spot, tears suddenly leaking again from the corner of his eyes. They flowed and dripped onto his shaking arms, unable to comprehend the overwhelming emotions. He couldn’t control it, burying his hands into his face, resisting to Naga of the wails he wished to howl into the darkness of the night. Tears leaked and continued to trail, staining his wrists and cloak, his teeth gritting fiercely.

He was so tired…..he was so tired of this damn nonsense!

Soren felt his chest rattle and quake, wiping his frustration off. He held his arms closely, hoping to knit his body into a small ball, shielding himself away from the rest of the world. Pathetic; the Grand Tactician of the Shepherds reduced to nothing but a mirror. A mirror that held a false reflection that the world saw of his grandeur and brilliance. He sniffed, his eyes burning and his teeth clenching painfully. Moments of reassessing the situation and his emotions, he was hollow—calm at least. His back pressed against the wooden surface, the only support he was to have from falling over. It was his only chance to prevent himself from returning to that vicious cycle

“I shouldn’t have slept…” Soren whispered hoarsely, “Not again…”

*****************************

Every rock and trench of dirt that the carriage dipped over, Soren watched—awake and alert. His weapons laid beneath him, stored carefully in sheathes and bags for the moment the carriage was to arrive at its destination. Soren remained quiet, his attention focused upon the opened book on his lap, immersing himself into tactical strategies. Stahl had been right about reading; it settled his thoughts immensely and became a source of healing when nights like this held him by his throat. His shoulders had relaxed and his sharpened gaze lowered, remaining fixated on the drawn sketches and outlines detailing certain positioning. Some books had rendered him anxious and paranoid—particularly the study of the Grimleal left him unwell after a year of studying into it. Some were better left alone—others like his tactics made him feel comfortable. The tactician expelled a careful sigh, his dark orbs lifting to the slumbering warrior. It seemed as if hours had passed by now but Marth remained in the state of blissful sleep—a sight that left some small comfort in the tactician. It was a sign that at least she had trusted him this much—to be able to lower her defense momentarily.

Soren sighed softly, his fingers tenderly flipped a page, scanning the inscription and made notes to himself. The ominous silence was haunting, stirring the tactician to alertness when the driver had called out to him several times to alert them of their eventual arrival. It almost swallowed him whole, he felt like he was beginning to lose his mind. His eyes lulled momentarily but he drew his willpower to remain awake—refusing to take such a horrid chance again. Marth turned in her sleep, Soren lifting his gaze back to her to see her eyes flickering open. There was a pause from her realization of where she was to the moment where she grasped she fell asleep, seeing her body immediately sit upright. Soren hid the smirk well, having lifted his book up to pretend as if he hadn’t noticed the abrupt rising. After a moment of feeling her peering gaze, he lowered his book.

“Welcome back to the present, Marth.” Soren’s lackluster greeting was overlooked, the warrior paying little mind when her shoulders sank, her brows furrowing.

“How long was I asleep for?” Marth asked.

 Soren hummed softly, his eyes darting to the fleeting snowy surface, light barely reflecting off the white sheets that layered across the ground, “A few hours I’d say,” Soren glanced to the grey sky, his lips souring at the sight of the never-ending snow fall, “Though it’s hard to say when day and night seem to blend here.”

Marth remained quiet for a few moments, fixating on the additional information before her eyes darted to his equipment laid out on the ground. It was moments after that her striking gaze met his, analyzing. Soren held a calm stance, hoping she didn’t notice the dark rings that captured his eyes. He wasn’t sure at this point how long he’s been up—time seemed irrelevant. Then, a steady sigh escaped her lips, her focused gaze moving to her lap.

“I apologize, I knew you had drifted off at some point and I had meant to wake you up—”

**_"Did you hear that, she meant to wake you up… ~~too bad."~~_ **

Soren held a hand up, smiling understandingly, “Don’t apologize, it’s fine. You needed the rest too. Besides, we’re fine right now, there’s nothing to fret.” Nothing that she should have been worried about at least. Marth

“I see,” Marth murmured, “Are we close to the capital?”

“Any minute now we’ll be the dropped off in fact,” Soren admitted, glancing over again to the window. The carriage buckled and bumped, the horses neighing loudly and began to draw to a stop. Marth and Soren shared a glance, silently gathering their items. The door opened, a tall, brutish man armed, covered in thick coats of wool and animal fur that blocked most of the frigid winds from entering the carriage.

“This is the stop,” A deep octave rumbled, “If you head straight down this path—you’ll reach the city in matter of hours.”

“R-Right,” Soren began feeling his teeth chatter, gritting tightly to remain professional, “Thank you.”

The driver adjusted himself, a gust of wind curling and treading its ice tips down Soren’s neck, “Ladies first.”

The burly man assisted Marth from the carriage, Soren following closely after. Thanking and paying for his service, the man offered a small warning, noting this area was often known to have bandits lurking around. The storm that was upon their feet now was their playground and he had only hoped they would make it to the city in one piece (without suffering hyperthermia either). Soren tugged at his coat, merely watching when the driver returned to the carriage and took off, hastily returning in the opposite direction. A fog escaped his lips, unable to hold back the frigid temperatures, buckling when a gust blew in his direction. Even Marth seemed unprepared, her teeth clenching visibly and her hands instinctively moving to warm her covered arms. Regna Ferox had to be a challenge no matter what; whether it be their people, their warriors, or the terrain itself.

“We should hurry,” Soren teeth chattered harder than he expected, another gust of wind howling, “This storm is going to pick up!”

“What?” Marth shouted, facing him, “You need to speak louder.”

“I can’t exactly be louder than the wind!” Soren raised his voice, “We need to hurry and get out of this storm!”

“All right!” Marth’s bark was severally undermined by the howl of the wind, the two bracing from the bone-chilling winds.

Snow picked up in waves across ground, dancing and skirting into the air, redirected and exploding outwards from the changing gales. The trees moaned and yielded to the wind, branches stretching and twisting. Soren’s cloak was coated, balls of snow clinging to the cuffs of his sleeves, snowflakes caressing his hair and making home in the nets of burgundy locks, his cowl could not hold back the aggressive wind. Knowing if they delayed their pursuit to the capital, they would be lost to the tundra that claimed these lands. Soren bit on his lips, his feet moving and burying into the next foot of snow, grateful for the extra coats they had rationally picked up while crossing deeper into the territory. The path was buried in layers of snow, undetected unless for careful treading. For moments, Soren thought they were spiraling in circles, trees blending and morphing into shadows that stalked by their feet. Marth made it imperative to keep track of their path, her sword drawing thick cuts into the bark of trees. It was a good tactic, the brief moments when she would stalk to the closest tree left a brief relief to Soren’s system.

He was thankful for not being alone, feeling vulnerable and cautious from the hours earlier. Soren’s eyes narrowed carefully to follow in Marth’s steps, his head pounded briefly, the howling of the wind leaving him uncomfortable and further exhausted. The warning from the carriage driver still rung in his head, keeping his eyes focused upon the objective at hand. At long last, the wind dies down, an eager relief to the warriors as they took a moment to stop.

“Thank Naga, I thought for certain it would never end,” Marth remarked, her cheeks brushed a bright pink, her lips turning a tad purple.

Soren nodded, adjusting his coat in agreeance, “Let’s take this opportunity as a blessing then.”  His eyes flickered shut, his chapped lips taking in the brisk air to travel through and freeze the inside of his body. Opening his eyes again, he followed the dark flap of Marth’s cape. Though the further he followed towards the end of the cape, he couldn’t help but notice that something seemed…odd.

“Huh?” Soren stopped in his place, his attention averting to the right of the path. Nothing but scattered trees and a crow escaping from the branches. The young man hummed softly, his eyes darting briefly into the darkness of the woods before following in suit with Marth. That is—until his foot was caught. The tactician landed forth into the snow, groaning loudly, barely able to make a dent in the snow when he punched his fist down.

“Soren?!”

“Ice…there’s a lot of ice.” The tactician breathed, grunting when he lifted his face from the ground. Lifting his head up, he was caught off guard. The dark figure stood above him, pressing a finger to its lips, his shoulders hunching down.

**_“Sshh…it’s just you and me.”_ **

Soren hesitated to shout, knowing that with Marth so close it could lead to a confrontation. A confrontation against a phantom however, was a completely different matter. Marth would remain oblivious to the phantom, instead deduce that Soren was out of his mind. Though she wasn’t _wrong._ The male figure seemed to notice the hesitation, lowering his gloved finger and tilted his head exaggeratedly.  Then, a suppressed chuckle escaped the host, his head shaking wildly and turned away. At worst timing, his body crumbled and fell to the mercy of the lingering wind. Soren stared, red at his cheeks and tightness controlling his chest. Swallowing roughly, he wasted no time getting up, careful in his next few steps as Marth continuously threw back a few glances. Soren avoided meeting her gaze, instead, vigilantly scanning the forest. No longer the fear of bandits sneaking upon them…but perhaps his own mind was here to torture him.

**_"Soren..."_ **

It sounded like his name moaned in the wind, at first Soren deducing it as mere paranoia. Yet the further he followed Marth, the louder the wind carried his name. It groaned and urged for acknowledgement, the tactician deciding to do no such thing. His fingers tucked the cowl further down his face, shadowing his worried glance away. He knew the phantom had powers beyond his understanding—to be able to torture through the field of his mind.

**_"You can’t run away from me Soren…"_ **

Soren caught himself gritting his teeth, his darting eyes catching the figure once move. He moved in step with the tactician, his every step haunting his own. Soren grew closer to Marth’s side, earning a quiet question of warning—bandits were most likely the criminals she believed. Soren didn’t dismiss, instead, using it as an excuse to allow his outlandish behavior be exposed. His eyes bore towards the figure that came closer to the duo, jumping from one foot to the other. Every step Soren took was a testament to his resolve, his mission to help the Shepherds. The shadow had appeared by every crook, every passing of bushes. He was the storm itself _._

 **_“Am I bothering you?”_ ** The figure would question, rolling his fist over imaginary tears _, **“I thought I was beginning** **to grow on you.”** _

“Soren?” Marth’s voice broke the trance, Soren meeting her cautious gaze, “You’re beginning to worry me.”

“…I thought I saw something,” Soren hesitated, “Be on guard, it could just be the storm playing tricks on me…” Soren wished it was that. She held a dissatisfied look and Soren brushed it off, merely ready to continue with their walk. Marth stopped however and Soren nearly ram into her arm, surprised the young woman stood her ground. She was a pillar of concentrated stone, her gaze a challenge rather than a threat.  

“I rather you speak to me truthfully, Soren.” Marth expressed, “If you’d wish to earn my trust, I should expect that I should earn yours as well.” The woman boldly stood in the way of the path, her arms crossed and pressed firmly underneath her breasts, her hip that held the falchion facing in his direction

“…..I am.” Soren began, rubbing his neck, “I do not take you as a fool Marth, I’m just…on edge. There’s a lot going on in my mind.” At the sound of that, Marth’s shoulders sunk slightly, her expression softening briefly.

“I understand…I suppose that’s how I feel right now too.”

“On edge?” Soren repeated, the young warrior nodding her head.

“I tend to think about how my comrades are faring…hoping they made it here all right,” Marth explained, the two slowly beginning to resume their walk through the frigid forest. Soren’s attention was slowly being taken away from the presence of the figure, not even sure if it was still following them. Marth’s hands had found their way into her bag, pulling the butterfly mask from its sheets, “One of them, his name is Gerome, actually provided this for me. I….I originally tried putting these silly glasses that he also had—but it made my friend Severa gawk in horror.”

“I’m guessing she pulled these out for you instead?” Soren questioned, tapping along the carved gold of the mask, “Not a bad choice—I don’t think any of us might have taken you as seriously if you had gone with your first choice.”

“Heh, maybe.” There it was again, that smile that flourished upon her lips, “I think about all the things they’ve done to support me and keep me afloat. I don’t think…I can ever thank them enough for it.” Marth admitted, her fingers curling around the mask, “Do you think of that for your comrades?”

“Every day,” Soren smiled, “Every day I thank Naga that I’m by the Shepherd’s side…they gave me a purpose…they helped me make a life for my own.” Slowly, his shoulders relaxed and he began to smile, his cheeks straining, his steps following in unison with Marth’s. Marth seemed sincere in her smile back, but her eyes averted to the skyline, blinking once.

 “There it is,” Marth’s relieved sigh was followed with a jubilant charge to the city, her hood falling over the shoulders. Soren followed in her path, catching sight of the golden hue that gleamed the horizon, surprised he didn’t catch notice of it sooner. He paused, turning around to the darkness of the forest, his eyes meticulously scanning.  No sign of the phantom, something that should’ve settled his mind but left him wearier. Knowing it was safe for the moment, Soren returned and made the effort to follow Marth, hoping he didn’t trip and fall over on his face again this time.

The frostbitten wall of Regna Ferox retained its intimidation, soldiers patrolling atop of the fortified checkpoint, the lingering flames the sole indication of life above. Soren barely caught up to Marth’s vigor sprint, feeling his feet were soaked and chilled, barely able to make the effort to put one foot past the other. The duo strode side by side when they approached the guards by the gate—briefly noting of their fixed stances at their presence. At first, Soren expected resistance when they reached the guarded gate. When he expected to explain their intention, the guards briefly glanced to one another, calling forth the gate to be lifted.

“…Are we expected?” Soren pressed, glancing to the short haired female guard.

“Yes, Khan Flavia had informed us we were to allow in guests that fit your description,” A brief scan of his body and Marth led her eyes back to him, “I take it you two had saved the port city in the south of Regna Ferox?” 

Soren blinked, “I suppose word spreads fast.”

“The Khan’s spies are universally known for their speed in gaining intel. Do not be too surprised, Ylissean Tactician.” The guard held a playful smile when the iron gates fully lifted, now she moved forth to be led to the capital with a messenger ahead to break news of their arrival.

Crossing through Regna Ferox after the war was a sight to behold. Shops spiraled down the streets in abundance now, not for the weary warriors in need for an inn and hot food. It held clothing stores now, blacksmiths that pounded freshly heated metal with an open door to their shop, children running around with candied apples and caps over their heads, parents following closely with spicy kabobs of meat. Soren looked on in awe, surprised to see such a remarkable change in the atmosphere, the female guard catching notice.

“The war against Plegia had its causalities…but the bountiful gold the Plegians had to offer helped rebuild Regna Ferox in more ways than one.” She explained, painting an amusing picture of Flavia and Basilio debating on how that gold was to be spent first. Soren smiled briefly, catching sight of Marth inspecting the spectacle at hand, noticing her eyes drift to the food stands then to the clothing stores—oh god, there was that bizarre dress again.

“Look—It’s here too.” Marth giggled—she actually giggled at the sight of it.

Soren pretended not to see it, tugging Marth’s arm gently to return her back to walking. It wasn’t long after leaving the lively town that they were ushered inside the castle and into the throne room, being told to stay put and to wait for the Khan’s arrival. Soren inhaled deeply at the feeling of warmth returning to his frozen fingers when they entered the long hall room, unable to hold a blank expression as Marth did. He stretched and curled his fingers, mouthing in pain from the dryness of his hands. The storm stole more than he had anticipated. Now Marth seemed to raise a brow at his exaggeration but he couldn’t help it. He was _freezing._ After visiting Regna Ferox time and time again, he thought he’d get used to it. He was wrong, so very wrong.

“Are you still cold?” Marth whispered, her voice loud enough in the silent room.

“Don’t worry, it’s just my fingers,” Soren reassured poorly, his face wincing, “Probably just…need to sit in a hot bath forever.”

“Well, well, well!” Basilio’s thick voice boomed, earning Soren’s raised gaze, “If it isn’t my former Champion! And Soren to boot!” Basilio hadn’t changed in the past two years, still retaining the familiar armor that the world had come to known him by. The brawny, proud West Khan stalked forward to them and greeted Soren in a way he only knew how; slapping his shoulder. Soren thought his shoulder popped out by the tough slap, resisting to utter a sound when Basilio laughed, patting his back roughly, “You’re looking good, Soren! Though, maybe it’s time to trim the hair.” He waved the ponytail of Soren’s growing hair towards his face.

“Thanks,” Soren sarcastically responded, pushing off Basilio’s hand from ruffling his hair further, “it’s good to see you too, Basilio. Where’s Flavia?”

“Really?” Basilio crossed his arms over his exposed chest, his lone eye meeting Soren’s, “Two years I ain’t seen ya and it’s just jumps the boat to where’s Flavia?” He rested a hand to his chest, “I’m insulted—”

 “Ease off him, you oaf.” Flavia entrance to the throne room, perfectly poised and armed with a dangerous smirk, “You’re not much one to be held reliable for anyways.” Basilio gritted his teeth at the insult, Flavia crossing the remainder of the throne room, smiling warmly towards Marth and Soren’s direction, “Good to see you two again, though I’m surprised you’re together doing this little espionage mission.”

“I take it you already have a brief understanding of our mission?” Soren pressed when Flavia joined by Basilio’s side, flicking pebbles from her shoulder armor. The woman held a fixated expression, a grim and knowing one. She rolled her arms back and sighed softly, her lavender orbs meeting his.

“Yes, my spies caught wind of what happened in the small port city off the coast and reported back. I already had my suspicions but I didn’t think the Valmese would be _that_ intensely provoked,” Flavia grimaced, her hand finding comfort upon stabbing her sword within the stone below, a fire threatening to burn, “Though I am indebted to what you two had done for my people, I do need to have clarification to what exactly had occurred. This is extremely concerning for the Ylissean Grand Tactician to be walking around searching for war.”

The intensity of her concerns absolutely set the gears in motion in Soren’s mind. No longer concerned over the phantoms, the events that happened within the past months, the relaxation, the curiosity lingering to Marth’s origin—no, it was amounting down to what he does. He fixed his sleeves back, revealing a peach colored notebook, fliers and other paperwork’s mashed within the small content. He gestured for Flavia to take, noting Basilio’s raised brow and Flavia’s equally concerned glance to him. She took it without much resistance, flipping the pages open and clutched the loose papers. Even Basilio had to resort to help, too many things falling for the leading Khan to handle. Soren had it all ready, all the evidence, the notes, the research—everything that concerned the Valmese—all contained within that little notebook.

“This notebook is accumulative reports and accounts from the past _three_ years,” Soren declared, earning even Marth’s shot glance, “Even during the Plegian war, the Valmese army had been rising and conquering it’s neighboring countries. It was only within the last year that the Valmese has all but taken over the entire continent. There’s many rebel armies within but it’s becoming a clear losing battle—Valm is organizing a tremendous army, they’ve been planning and preparing to unite and conquer the rest of its resisting country. They already started to make threats and—obviously from weeks before—have succeeded in terrorizing port cities.” Flavia and Basilio listen carefully, their eyes focused upon the many different reports that held in their hand, Basilio beginning to create a pile in his large hand, “I made the discovery about a year and half ago with Marth as a witness. Chrom knows as well and I was in charge of finally drawing the evidence to persuade your assistance in preparing whatever funds we need to take on the Valmese.”

Silence followed Soren’s report, Flavia’s eyes intently following sentence after sentence in his notes. It was as if pieces were connecting her in thoughts and she gritted her teeth visibly. She attempted to shut the book carefully, though it loudly echoed from the abrasive force.  

“Those dirty Valmese,” Flavia sneered, huffing, “We’ll show them a thing or two—”

“You can’t—” Marth’s insistence made Soren snap his attention to her, surprised. Marth, realizing the error of her mistake, moved on, “I mean…as Khans—you can’t face them yourselves. Your country needs you more than anything. Don’t make such risky moves without further cause.”

Basilio grumbled, rolling his eye, “Bah, I suppose she has a point.”

“I suppose our source was genuinely correct,” Flavia’s expression soured, sighing, “It was good I sent word for Chrom to head for Regna Ferox. I rather we discuss this together.”

“You’ve already sent word?” Marth asked.

“This…isn’t the first time we had received a report like this,” Flavia admitted, “But I recently received a carrier pigeon holding parchment containing of the utmost importance. Now with my spies reports, your incredibly detailed one—I can surely hold this as enough proof that our cause will have validation.”

Soren frowned, his eyes narrowing, “May I ask Khan Flavia, who was it that you received that parchment from?”

Flavia handed the notebook to Basilio, her eyes never taken away from Soren’s, “He’ll be in just a moment, you’d probably brush past him in the halls. But unfortunately, we promised to hear his side of this tale—in private as he wishes.”

Soren hadn’t known anyone else studying upon this Valmese case in all his travels. Unless this was someone from Valm themselves—someone that truly knew the turmoil that was wrecking the continent and had seen first-hand what the leader of this army was capable of. Soren was dejected they had to leave sooner than expected, but he had insisted for Flavia and Basilio to keep the notebook and read it over, knowing it was far too long to have briefly skimmed through. Flavia thanked them, having already arranged food and rooms for the two and to seem them bright in the morning. The guards from earlier had waited patiently at the end of the room, now summoned forth to escort them to their rooms. Soren had briefly glanced to Marth after their conversation was done, noticing a sullen, foreboding expression resting on her knitted brows, her lips curling sourly. There was more meaning behind her outburst, that much was certain, but he didn’t want to press over it this evening. He was tired and he could only imagine that she must have felt the same way.

Entering the hallway, Soren caught notice of a pair walking towards them. The two that must be meeting Khan Flavia in private. Walking further towards their direction, Soren focused upon the first face that became clear—a young woman with flowing rose tinted locks, her silver armor glimmering over the striped navy clothing she wore underneath it. Her eyes met Soren’s and she smiled briefly, but it was missed when Soren saw the man beside her.  The regal attire hadn’t fooled Soren since the day he met on that Risen torn battlefield—a thick bow and arrow resting upon his back. Those constant nights of trying to outwit the man in chess only to lose every single time. Soren felt his jaw slack slightly, his feet stopping in place, “Virion?”

The archest archer, the name Virion famously called himself, hadn’t acknowledged him. Instead, when their groups crossed paths, he kept walking while the woman beside him had taken the moment to stop, not surprised that he had made the decision to do so. Soren casted his gaze towards Virion’s back, taking in the account of the cuts that were made along his tunic, the ash that covered his sleeves. It was all suddenly making sense to the tactician on why he had little to no response from the flamboyant man. This whole time—Virion was in Valm—but what exactly?

“I apologize on behalf of milord,” The young woman caught Soren’s attention, the tactician blinking slowly on the sound of milord being spoken, “We just arrived from a tiring journey, please excuse his behavior…just for this moment.”

“Milord….?” The words tasted foreign and bitter, watching her expression fade and follow in step of Virion, the duke pressing forth the doors to open. Instead, he looked to the young woman, who remarkably still managed to keep a smile on her face, “Then, who are you?”

“His confidant; my name is Cherche. Now if you’ll excuse me, we have a lengthy appointment with the Khan. I do hope you understand.” Cherche apologized once more on behalf of Virion, taking her time to walk down the lengthy hallway to enter the throne room, the door shutting closed after she walked in. The echoing of the shut door kept Soren at bay, the sole thought haunting his mind; what had Virion seen all these years from being away from the Shepherds?

It was with careful suggestions from the guards that Soren eventually began to follow in suit again, his jaw clenched with a sullen expression. They made it up the endless flights of stairs, surprisingly not slipping over the sleek of ice that captured some of the blocks. Making their towards their rooms, Soren caught Marth’s gaze towards him.

“….Are you all right Soren?” Marth questioned.

“…..Yeah…” Soren turned to face her but nothing came to mind on what could be said, "I guess...I'm concerned for my friend...wondering what happened."

“You should get some rest….you’re going to have to explain quite a bit of information to them. I'm sure tomorrow will be better..” Marth regarded. At the sound of tomorrow, Soren quirked his lips.

“…..Should I expect you at breakfast?” Soren had a suspicion that once Chrom’s name was brought up by Flavia, Marth was to vanish in the wind once more. Even the fleeting glance had confirmed Soren’s guess, even the warrior debating to herself.

“…..We’ll have to see…”

Soren sighed softly, not wishing to leave the night as such, “Thank you for accompanying me, Marth. I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing to thank me for.” Marth regarded, halting with the guards explained Soren’s room was further down the hall. Soren briefly glanced to Marth’s way, taking the steps forward to follow the female guard but paused.

“…….Marth?”

“Hmm?”

“……I hope you find your comrades soon.” Soren looked over his shoulder to her, “I sincerely mean that. They sound like devoted friends that would go to the ends of the world for you.”

Soren was quick to turn on his heel and avoid her glance, feeling a heated blush strip across his cheeks. He wasn’t one for making compliments…and it felt more awkward towards her then it had to anyone else. The female guard seemed to take notice, smirking slightly underneath her armored helmet. Soren looked questionably at her but she merely chuckled, waving her free hand to him in dismissal. It didn’t make him feel any better, if anything, furthered his flushed embarrassment that he had even attempted to say what he did. When he reached what was his room, the guard finally introduced herself as Seelie, reminding him that if he needed anything, all he had to do was knock on the door for her. Soren thanked the young guard, entering to his arranged corridors, surprised to find an icy coating stretching from the corner of the ceiling. No wonder it looked familiar…it was the room he was lounged in when he had woken up from his weeklong unconsciousness. Swallowing carefully, he finally made work to strip out of his soaking wet clothing, taking a long bath to gain warmth back into his frozen body. After drying himself off and picking from the driest clothes he had, he was bared down to his brown pantaloons and his white, short sleeved undershirt. Settling upon the unyielding mattress, his thoughts began to dwindle and settle, his eyes flickering to remain awake. Thoughts of phantoms and war—it was terrifying. Soren had only known war and appreciated the peace that Ylisse had created and what potential the rest of the war had to follow in example, but, of course…nothing could ever last like that.

Soren found himself turning to his side, his eyes lulling and clenching to the sheets below him. Fear gripped him slightly, but he was tired, too tired to think of the consequences of falling asleep once more…logic fading into the darkness he longed to be immersed in.  

*****************************

…..

…..

_R—on._

_“Mm…”_

_His eyes lulled, a sweet, honey fragrance blossoming his senses awake. In the blur of his vision, he found a field of colorful flowers, small and fragile, scattered across the vast snowy field he laid upon. He rolled over, shaking his loosen hair of accumulative snow, tracing his fingers along the surprisingly warm surface. The wind curled and blew past his burgundy hair, his arms bared of his dark coat, instead wearing what he had gone to sleep in. He blinked slowly, checking the surrounding pansies that sprung past the snow, glowing in hues of purple, pink, soft yellows and oranges. He blinked slowly and plucked one from the surface, holding it carefully but unable to stop the petals from tinting white, the wind picking up and scattering the flower with it. He lifted his head to follow the trail and found the formation of snow curling and drifting towards him. Soren didn’t move when a figure revealed itself…but unlike the phantom…the presence seemed familiar. Soren’s brows furrowed together, watching the cloaked figure step forth, silent in her approach. She sensibly knelt in front of Soren, petite fingers leaning to pull down the hood. At first—Soren expected it to be the woman from his other dreams—but when he saw her short, curled hair, a lovely strawberry pink that seemed to be full of live at one point, held her tanned skin at bay._

_“Are you…?” Soren couldn’t ask. He was nervous to ask. He wasn’t sure what to even ask of this dream figment._

_“…” The gale blew again, her robes escaping into the skies above, the dream world clearly in place. Soren could feel his frustration born again, shutting his eyes briefly, his fists knotting in the snow underneath him._

_“I’m so tired…I just want answers...” Soren whispered, hunching his head down, his hair cascading over his face._

_“…I wish….I could answer your prayers…”_

_Soren slowly lifted his head to the woman hidden by her curls, finding her warm, chocolate eyes meeting his—his eyes were a reflection of her own. He shivered when the woman broke her gaze away, reaching down to pluck a pansy from the earth below, looking longingly to the plant she beheld. “There was…so much I was supposed to keep you from…and I failed to do so…” The flower crumbled and faded, but instead of drifting away, the snow began to rotate and spin, a dark stone laying upon her hand.  Her hair hung loose, freely blowing and fading along with the wind._

_“Know…I will be here, Soren.” Her voice a whisper, “I wish I could explain to you…this destiny you’ve been forged to play.” A painful image of the Plegian assassin played behind him, recanting those cruel words that Soren had wished he had placed away in a box for good. To be of Plegian blood--of a murderer's son. The orb spiraled into dust and the woman reached forward, cupping his cheeks between her tender hands. Soren met her stare, a part of him breaking when she saw the tears streaming down her face, brushing along his cheekbones to his chin, “Soren…I’m so sorry you’re alone in this world. The world that I was supposed to protect you from.”_

_“Protect me…from what?!” Soren felt the tears spill, frustration hitting its core, “What is it that happened that I was cursed to live this fate?!” Tears spilled down his cheeks, overwhelmed when he saw the edges of her feet beginning to dissolve, her body slowly to follow in suit. He met her gaze once more, seeing the sadden smile that captured her face. He didn’t know….but he reached forward, burying to hug her tightly, wondering if this is what it felt to be a child—lost and wishing to be comforted by his mother’s hug. Her arms reached and squeezed but it loosened strength, Soren watching her body fading from his possession, her whisper leaving him hunched over the bed of pansies, no longer held down by the snow they were buried in._

_“……You were born Soren…and that is the greatest curse of all.”_


	22. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh.......it's done. 
> 
> It took longer than I expected due to some unforeseen events in my life but alas, we're here now. I hope you all enjoy, huehuehueheue.

_Hear the wind calling me to leave this place_

_Yet here we are standing 'round face to face_

_This burning sky witnessed the greatest of love_

_Now it waits patiently to draw from our blood_

_*****************************_

Remaining still was a pain Soren never thought he’d suffered from. But he suffered so—aching from every turn of his shoulders and grunted when he would shift to his side. His eyes were rimmed red, burning from how long he might have gone without blinking. It felt like minutes—ranging from days to months. Soren didn’t know what to do. Days lingered slowly in the fortress of Fort Ferox and his thoughts seemed too haste for the environment. He had been granted a brief respite of the torturous nightmares, though, occasionally he would find himself lifting his head from a meal or a book then see the dark figure in a corner of a room. Head tilted, always still, the figure never approached and always seemed to be gone in a blink of an eye. He was going mad, he’d tell himself every time he would catch the figure following him down the frozen corridors, amidst all the soldiers that seemed to phase right through it. At one point, Soren had begun to grow numb to the encounters, finding himself several times across the days hunched beside his bed on the floor, resting his arms on his knees. His thoughts dwindled and scurried if a new one had emerged.

Yes, maybe he really was losing his mind. He wouldn’t doubt it…but maybe it meant something else too.

The figure haunted him—but very approached closer. Never took advantage of his wild imagination and even in the darkness moments of his insomniac nights—the phantom never drew closer. What kept it at bay—but what allowed it to be so close in the first place?

What…what was this all suppose to mean???

Soren quirked his lips, his arm unconsciously raising to the bed beside him, taking grip of the vanilla letter that had already been cut open and read several times. The guard, Seelie, had knocked early morning the night he had the dream of the mysterious woman, the woman that felt so warm and embracing, but left his soul feeling icy and void. He didn’t remember much of their small back and forth, but there was a moment the knight had paused, her hand reaching to the beige pouch that laid around her hip. A moment later a sealed letter gingerly gripped by her large hand, extending to Soren’s direction, “Here. From the former champion, she asked of me to give this to you.”

Soren didn’t quite understand way…but at the sight of the letter it seem to have answered Soren’s hunch. When he first read it—it seemed almost predictable that she would write something as such to him. Marth seemed too noble for her own good—shouldering a heavy burden without once letting others know of her struggle. It almost irked Soren at this point. His slender fingers brushed along the cursive ink droplets, reading once more:

_“I apologize Soren, but I grow weary for what’s to come—I need to secure additional information and return to you,” Soren raised a brow of her choice of words but continued forth, noticing the hesitant spacing as if she debated continuing her thoughts, “Thank you for your patience— and trust. Soren, you may not know how much that trust seems to matter—but it matters a great deal to me. I trust that—this letter reaches to you safely and that one day our paths will cross again…” Soren could make out from crossed out notes, seeing the struggle of trying to find the next words, “Next time—I’ll be open to your offer. I promise, you’ll learn of my mission soon enough.”_

Soren folded the piece of paper, the gears churning and working in his mind. What she wrote was ominous in told…but he already knew that about her. Everything about Marth was ominous—but it also told the story of a young heroine that he had the pleasure of getting to know these past few months. It seemed…at least by this point she acknowledged that he was someone worth trusting. That made him a bit at ease at least.

He probed his shoulders against the frame of the bed, a soft sigh expelling from his lips. His eyes flickered slowly open, recalling today was the day that Chrom and the Shepherds would arrive to Regna Ferox. Word flew and was received hastily back, Soren assuming it took a few days to settle the Ylissean council upon word of their King’s departure. If not them—it’d certainly be Olivia. She just gave birth to their child less than a few weeks ago, clearly, she’d be tired. Or more worried for her husband potentially scouting into a new war. Olivia was not one to be fragile—she’d been training with Sumia and Cordelia to better herself as a Pegasus rider, fancying herself a black Pegasus the minute she laid eyes on it. Though battling her insecurities, she had gotten bolder—but Soren supposes when the gang gets here it will have to be the challenge to see if she persevered against Chrom or not.

The knock on his door rattled him to sit up, his gaze falling to the twist of the golden knob. A silver, armored glove was the first thing he noticed and following in pursuit of the heavy armor, he caught sight of the mauve haired knight. She had been persisted in staying by his side and guarded his dorm with vigor that challenged even Frederick’s talents. It was reassuring, despite his hallucinating visions that left him drained. It was good to know someone was looking out for him.

“Yes?” Soren questioned.

“Sir Soren, the Khan request of your presence in the throne room.” Seelie regarded, a nod gestured to him when he stated in return he’d be out in a few moments. His door clicked shut and the young man found himself fixing his clothes, running his hand through his knotted hair to smooth it out. He decided against putting his hair up into a ponytail, fixing his cloak properly and brought it over his tunic. Digging his heel against the ground to properly set his foot in his boot, he gently opened the door and leaned slightly out. Seelie waited a few feet away from the door, her silver lance shimmering from the reflective rays of the window across. If Soren hadn’t known better, he’d assume she was a great knight like Frederick himself—her maroon armor suggested it at least. Perhaps she owned a horse as well to charge into battle. It wouldn’t surprise him if the horse was as fearsome as his own. Seelie seemed to catch his persistent gaze, the corner of her lips curling upwards, almost knowing what he was about to ask.

“I was asked to guide you down, so you don’t get lost this time,” Said Seelie.

“It seems the Khans have lost some faith in me,” Soren rebutted but Seelie was a step ahead, her heavy armor clattering.

“They hold you to one of the highest regard, but as I recall what Khan Flavia said….you were repeating some actions of locking yourself in a library. Basilio thinks you’re just going to dig a hole in the room and call it your new home.” The image of Basilio nagging him from behind the mahogany door and reminding the ‘boy’ to get fresh air left Soren slumping his shoulder, displeased. In turn, Seelie giggled at the sight, pressing her gloved fist to her lips, “You look like a rabbit twitching your nose,”

Stunned, he bewilderedly glanced to her, earning the young woman to laugh harder. It wasn’t the first or the last time he’d be pointed out from his annoyance. Flushed and further embarrassed, the tactician lamely disregarded the notion. He waved a hand at her direction and insisted they best be on their way.

The wind no longer rattled the window frames, the glass stained windows glowed and lit the floors in various blues and greens. The chill from the outside was no longer threatening, but tamed, basking in the warm rays of the sun that overtook Regna Ferox. It looked to be a splendid day, certainly Lissa would be absolutely thrilled when coming by. No doubt Frederick and Chrom would be relieved either with journeying all this way to the icy fortress. Soren followed his gaze towards the outside world, taking in the frozen beauty that Ferox had to offer, wondering how long he had been contained within these walls that he did not look before. His lips pressed together, piecing together how out of place he’s felt for the past few weeks. Perhaps it was a good time to take a step back and reevaluate everything again. His line of view caught the violet hair warrior crossing his path and took to action to draw his thoughts away.

“How long have you lived in Regna Ferox?” Asked Soren.

Seelie hummed out, “A few years now. My father and I came as refugees like many others.”

“Refugees…?” He didn’t take her to be a refugee at first glance, but further studying her face, he noticed she didn’t exactly fit into the description that most natives of Regna Ferox had. Peach skin with sunspots that ran along the bridge of her nose, she looked Ylissean..but…something else seemed to draw him to another conclusion. Perhaps it was in the shape of her lavender eyes…it seemed…Plegian, “Might I ask where you originally hail from?”

For a moment the knight halted in place, her jaw setting in place. Soren slowed in his advance, watching carefully as she turned to glance at him, her lashes shadowing and darkening her gaze. After a moment of silence, she spoke, “I hail from Plegia, like yourself, sir.”

“Is it obvious I originated from Plegia?” Soren held back the dread that picked along his spine, continuing to focus on the young woman. Seelie briefly glanced towards his cloaks, her fixated gaze darting briefly with lips pressing shut, briefly frustrated.

“….The cloak you wear is one that is bestowed to mages from Plegia. Its considered an honor,” Her hand reached out, lightly brushing along the purple eyes that drew down coat sleeves, “These eyes represent Grima and his loyal followers, the Grimleal. Many thought wearing something that represented the Fell Dragon would bless them in battle…a long tradition in Plegian culture.”

Soren blinked slowly, taking in slow account of her expression morphing slowly, cracks within her harden shell. Despite refugeeing in Regna Ferox, there seemed to be a longing to once again return to her home. Soren withdrew his arm away from her loosened grasp, tucking his sleeves up in reflex, having taught himself many times to roll the sleeves up to avoid weary glances to himself. Seelie seemed to catch notice but Soren avoided her glance, instead, focusing on another question, “Would that mean you were there for the first war between Plegia and Ylisse 17 years ago?”

“I was,” Seelie nodded once, “I was only a child at the time.”

“Would you mind if I ask about life before and during the war?” Soren slowed in his pace again, looking to her, “I…have only read about it and my memories are not exactly the most reliable.” A shadow flickered from the corner of his eye, the sheer willpower to focus his attention on the shorter woman set his entire body to stone. Seelie seemed to ponder for a moment on the request but sighed softly, her enigmatic gaze falling on him again.

“I’ll tell you…but please refrain from speaking about this conversation to others,” Her attention drew away, traveling towards the end of the long hallway to catch the patrolling guards, casually speaking to one another as they disappeared from their line of sight, “While I may have lived here from many years, many are still weary of Plegians….especially now.”

The persistent bickering of the council had to deal with flickered in the back of his mind, recalling the snide comments and rude insults that came his way. The heat that ran along his cheeks and ears returned, briefly reliving the moments of brushing past several of them through the hallways of the castle in Ylisse. Constantly ignoring, rushing to get to the next room, burying himself in his training with Frederick, in his books—anywhere that ignored reality.

“I understand…completely,” Soren acknowledged.

“Plegia had once been a beautiful country,” Seelie began, unraveling the scenery to him, “The desserts dunes were once homes to carefully made oasis’s. Traveling further towards the port cities, you’d see gorgeous displays of light shows and trading. The capital itself was warm in comparison, yes, it did face some of the dark foreboding vibe that most from the outside expect, but there was so much more to it…many of our people loved living there…until…”

“Until?”

“Well, Plegia had always been raptured in other teachings beside Naga herself. There was of Mila and Duma of yore, but it soon faded away centuries ago in favor of Grima…once the Grimleal slowly took control of the land. Centuries it took and the constant changing on names, Plegia became a home to those that worship the Fell Dragon Grima,” She paused and looked to him, the tactician humming softly and rested a palm on his side.

“But why Grima of all beings? From what I understand of Naga’s teachings are rather warm compared to the harsh….death and destruction of the world….that is Grima’s. No offense,”

“It’s okay, a lot of it comes from tradition at this point. The religion has long been entwined with all the culture. Not all look to Grima as a malicious entity—some looked to him as solace during many autocracy rules our country had periled through. Some acknowledge him as the destiny to come.” Seelie explained, earning a raised brow from Soren. Her gaze followed to the window, her hands intertwining towards her chest and curled, looking to the glass stained windows, a picture deciphering a ravaging battle that no doubt took place hundreds of years ago, “Yes, death is natural, we cannot escape it for it is meant to happen. It is a gift to be able to die…I think I would feel sorrier for those that must live on. Watching their beloved ones becoming nothing but a memory…”

Soren’s thoughts dwindled to Nowi, recalling her Mankete form. To once have been powerful dragons that ruled the lands, choosing to push their essence into a stone and live such long lives as humans…it was hard to wrap his mind around it. He could only recall Nowi teasingly about to light the bonfire up, after moments earlier engaging in a soft recollection of the past about her parents. He wondered…did she prefer to cover her fears and worries of outgrowing her friends by acting like a child and playing with children all the time…?

Soren bit his bottom lip, taking into the details the further Seelie’s swaying body pulled away from the mosaic and continue their way. The corridors shifted and turned, the carpet turning stone and steps spiraled and descended to the next levels of the fortress. Soren pressed his hands along the wall while following Seelie in close step. The knight took a moment to pause from the stories, focused on reaching the bottom step of the spiraling room, her hand pressed against the door to allow Soren to exit first. Guards briefly patrolled the narrow corridor, two positioned at the far end of the hallway, the entrance of the throne room. Soren peered to the knight that reached beside him, a strange expression resting along her face. As if...surprised they got this far.

“It’s strange,” Seelie acknowledged, “Explaining this to someone outside the Grimleal faith—even to another Plegian is difficult. Most Plegians are not of the Grimleal but are forced to worship—in fear of the consequences.” She paused, “And most fear death…life hurts a lot more than what death may offer though. At that point, the pain is over and we can only wish our loved ones will have crossover in peace.”

“That’s….,” Soren couldn’t find the words, “It’s perceptive….I never would have honestly seen it that way. My friend Tharja had relied to me that during Gangrel’s rule it became just as havoc and dark as the rest of the world knows it as.”

“Not many do, even then not many did. The previous Ylissean Exalt didn’t. He….” She swallowed, her eyes undeterred, “He had this incredibly notion every single Plegian was a part of the Grimleal…that vicious, murderous campaign. The Ylisseans took Plegia by storm—the ruling family at the time was devastated. The lord’s grandson had been taken—he died—the rest of his family fled. Hundreds of thousands—regardless of what belief they held—were murdered in cold blood. It’s when my father ran with my mother and I, but my mother never made the journey.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Seelie,” Soren apologized immediately.

“Don’t be, she’s resting,” He expression softened, a small sigh escaping her lips, “It’s being here, knowing my mother wanted my father and I to be happy, that keeps me going.”

No longer pushing for answers, the two silently agreed to head down the hall. With Seelie acknowledging her duties to the guards ahead, the two opened forth the large doors for two to enter through. Entering the bustling room, flames alit along the walls that shouldered the thrones at the far end of the room. Maids and servants inspected along the walls, dusted, and decorated with careful precision. From the furthermost corner of his eye, Soren caught Virion flirting with a young maiden, his confidant Cherche clearly ready to tug his ear back. It seemed Virion had washed up his entire attitude since the past few days, returning to his philandering ways. Soren watched from a distance before briefly returning his glance to Seelie, seeing the knight turning.

“It was a pleasure, but I must attend to other duties.” Seelie regarded.

“The pleasure was mine, thank you for sharing your story with me,” Soren said to the warrior, earning a small smile in return.

“Thank you for listening.”

With Seelie gone, Soren felt his cool disposition return and found his feet trekking across the large throne room. He approached towards Virion and Cherche, the tall knight instead adjusting the plate of armor along her neckline. He hadn’t noticed at first but they spread out very much like wyvern wings. Fixing her long, vibrant red hair back, her rosy eyes caught sight of him and turned forward, a pleasant smile unfolding.

“Ahh, sir Soren?” Cherche regarded, “A pleasure to meet once again.”

“Cherche, correct?” With a nod of her head, Soren smiled and briefly engaged towards Virion’s direction, “You said you were Virion’s confidant…?”

“Yes, I’ve worked in the House of Virion for many years, having been born and raised in Rosanne. My lord…is quite something isn’t he?” She giggled to which Soren shared the chuckle, shaking his head, “I apologize once more for the past week. I know Lord Virion had been purposely avoiding you, still held up by his encounters of recent. I’ve scolded him for each time but it seems just only today he seems in a brighter mood.”

“Was this a constant thing for him over in Rosanne?” Soren gestured to Virion’s leaning body, his mouth moving in a way the young woman giggled, her cheeks brimming red. Cherche rolled her eyes, smiling in a knowing manner.

“Every day with any woman, his flattery is wasted on me at this point,” Cherche remarked, “Though, if I may be blunt..?”

Soren raised a brow, “You…may?”

“You have been quiet avoidant of Virion as well.” Cherche regarded, “I had seen the times you two would pass each other without a word. It may be true that Virion’s carefree façade may rub people the wrong way, but from what I had understood, Virion seemed quite fond of the friends he had made. I believe he’s mentioned you in several letters to me while I remained in Valm.”

Virion never mentioned anything about his homeland or his reasons to join the Shepherds. He had made assumptions that Virion came from wealth, judging from Frederick’s suspicions on the ominous donations that were made to the Shepherds. It seemed almost strange now to hear it from someone from his homeland that there was more to judge from the pompous aristocrat

“Do you know why Virion returned to Valm?”

“I suppose that was my fault. Rosanne was conquered last year but many people were escaping. I had remained behind to help those in need. It started to become too perilous however and my wyvern, Minvera, was injured. I suppose in a last attempt, I wrote him a letter stating what had happened…and he came.”

“He came all the way back to save you?”

“No, I helped my dear Minvera back on her hind claws,” Cherche smiled teasingly, “But he did return to aid in my escape by boat last month. If it wasn’t for Virion, I surely would not have made it to Regna Ferox at all.”

“Would you mind if I speak to Virion then?”

“Not at all, I could draw away the maid from him if you’d like.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Cherche strode forward, Virion catching her in his line of sight. At first Soren expected her to outright drag Virion to him but instead she held a hand towards the young maiden’s shoulder, an exchange Soren couldn’t clearly hear. In a moment’s notice, the maid was eager to guide Cherche somewhere, exclaiming something about Basilio having no rival beside Lon’qu—someone he eagerly spoke enough times that everyone knew about. Virion seemed left empty handed, his mouth slacking to the side and his arm propped with no purpose left in the world. Soren hesitated to head over but decided to move forth, catching the archer’s attention. Virion seemed to fix his hair back, his stiff shoulders loosening ever so slightly from Soren’s view.

“My my, if it isn’t dear Soren,” Virion greeted, “What a pleasant surprise to join me here in this colden fortress. A chance at fate if I do say so myself.” Virion was certainly back to his normal self, it almost caught Soren off guard. The tactician hummed softly and leaned his shoulder against the wall, tilting his head slightly with a raised brow.

“So….Virion….how are you?”

“Alas, I could have been in better wear for sight.” Virion briefly fixed his hair back, “I assume Cherche already dabbled on my recent adventures, no?” Soren knew Virion wasn’t dumb, it was just waiting for a moment of surrender. Virion sighed softly, his gloved hands fixing upon his hips, fingers drumming in calculated rhythm, “Cherche is a brilliant woman, sharp tongued—just like I taught her.”

“I’m pretty positive that’s all on her own, Virion,” Soren teased, though his shoulders dropped slightly, a sober expression unfolding, “Why didn’t you tell us sooner, Virion? Why didn’t you tell anyone from the Shepherds about this?” Virion exhaled heavily in response, his shoulders kept upright by the wall, his head tilted towards the golden ceiling, the torches dazzling the ceiling in sparkles.

 “It was a game of chess, Soren.”

“Pardon?”

“Allow to me to explain briefly….” Virion pressed a hand to his chin, stroking in thought, “I’m sure you’ve already heard of the terrible Walhart the Conqueror. A man of such great caliber, he unified and began expanding his great empire. I had underestimated his forces—they took Rosanne by storm the first time…after I realized there was no stopping him. Unless I wish to have my entire country spewing blood in all the creeks and meadows…I had no other choice but to burn their moral.”

“……So, you ran. A coward, a disgrace…no one would want to continue fighting in your name.” It was a brilliant plan, but it took so much for Virion to pursue it. He was a coward, yes, but underneath it was a genius fighter, willing to sacrifice his name and titles to keep his people safe. It distressed the tactician to have thought rudely of him. Virion seemed to nod slowly in agreement, a ghost of a smile upon his lips.

“Sounds brilliant upon paper, but alas, I arrived here in Ylisse to request for aid when I stumbled upon another war. I was torn horribly—a disgraced lord from another continent seeking aid when war was knocking on Ylisse’s door front. I made the decision to assist in the Shepherds……baiting my time and hoping my good grace would allow for me to make my approach—especially now that the Valmese openly threaten for war.”

Virion had sacrificed much to get here, and Soren thought he had problems to handle and secure. He quirked his lips, rubbing his jaw tenderly and avoiding fully glancing to Virion. It was strange…to hear this side from him. He was so use to their chess games but now Soren could see it was not just from playing, it was from true experience that Virion knew how the losses would measure up to. Soren further pressed his shoulders against the wall, properly standing and darting his attention towards the ajar doors, catching sight of Flavia entering the large throne room. Her lavender eyes fell upon the tactician and he briefly waved in acknowledgement.

“…….At least you had a good excuse for missing the wedding,” Soren changed the subject, knowing he’d learn of the details further on. “Explains why I couldn’t find you when I was looking for the other Shepherds.”

“Ah yes, dear Olivia, Chrom would have been mad to miss the opportunity to wed such a wonderfully talented young woman.” Virion acknowledged, following in suite of Soren’s change of pace.

“She had the courage to dance with Chrom that night—it actually reminded me of that dance that you two practiced before you left.”

Soren didn’t expect Virion to look so surprised, “Really? So bold! I /must/ congratulate her.”

“Well, I’m sure you can when we start sharing the stories afterwards.” Soren acknowledged slowly, “Tharja may be fixing to vex you if she sees you again.”

Virion seemed ready to move at the sight Basilio entering the throne room, knowing what was to come. However, he only took a step forward before slightly looking back to Soren, “How is dear Tharja?” His tone changed at the sound of her name. Virion seemed genuinely concerned for the dark mage. Soren wasn’t too surprised, after Virion jumped for the attack on Gangrel, Tharja had notably softened towards him. Unlike her and Gaius’s relationship, it seemed Virion and Tharja danced along the fine lines of something he was unfamiliar with. Soren rolled his sleeves down to his wrists, fixing a glance to Virion.

“She’s fine—though you should have at least left her more than that note. For once I wasn’t the only one on her mind.”

Virion remained notably quiet, but returned to walk forth towards Basilio, the former Khan regarding Virion’s presence as Cherche joined at his side. Soren followed carefully but broke off and headed towards Flavia, the proud woman resting a hand upon her tilted sword. Moments of waiting and small talk, the doors brandished open to reveal the proud King of Ylisse. Chrom started to fit into his role as king more and more every time Soren saw him. The young man’s eyes travelled across the room but fixated upon Soren, a tentative smile unfurling. Relieved. Soren could only wonder how much stress he pushed him for handling the intelligence of the Valmese.

Following in suite of Chrom was Lissa, a golden ray in the frozen fortress. She smiled widely at the sight of Soren, waving eagerly, her new dress flowing side to side. While Chrom took on the mantle of King, Lissa moved on in her own small ways. Lissa practiced magic upon her spare time and slowly decided to become a Sage. Dressed in clothing that resembled Emmeryn’s, Lissa had hoped she would remind their people that all hope was not loss. That they would not fail upon Emmeryn’s legacy. Shortly following in suit was Frederick and Sumia, the duo smiling warmly with silver bands shining on their ring fingers. It was easy to say that Soren couldn’t be happier to see the two together. It seemed Frederick caught notice of Soren’s lingering glance, a firm nod sent his way. A reassurance that the Shepherds were brought together, a relief that Soren was able to trust Frederick with his duties while he was out.

 “I apologize I could not come sooner, Flavia.” Chrom greeted boldly, crossing further into the throne room towards them. Flavia seemed not too surprise, offering him a small smile, her stance leaning leftwards and her right hand fixing itself upon her hip.

“What matters is you are here, Chrom.” Flavia regarded, throwing a hand upon Soren’s shoulder, supporting her stance on him, “Or else I might have taken your tactician right from under your nose.” It had become a tease between him and Flavia that she may one day take the tactician, always…. joking.  

“Maybe Under my dead body, perhaps,” Chrom smirked playfully, though it dropped a moment later, a worried glance to Soren, “Is it true Valmese warships have set sail? I know Soren had been investigating about it but is there more you can tell us, Flavia?”

“Not much more than what your tactician already knows, I’m afraid,” Flavia regarded, frowning, “The details remain hazy—just a moment—” Flavia peered past Soren’s and Chrom’s shoulders, her lips tightening to let out a bark, “Oaf! Over here, you big, bald—Chrom is here!”

“I can /see/ that. I may have damaged an eye but I can still see him!” Basilio’s bark rang from down the room. A chuckle rang from Chrom’s throat, shaking his head at their playful banter.

“They sound like an old couple,” Chrom whispered, Soren nodding his head in agreement. Basilio strode towards them, a grinning smile upon seeing Chrom’s bold stance. It was not like their previous encounters where Basilio would roll his eyes secretly during some meetings—he held respect for Chrom this time around from the moment Chrom and him reached to firmly shake hands.

“Ah, well met boy! Glad to see you can finally join us!” Basilio patted Chrom’s shoulder, smiling, “How’s your wife and child? I better hear you’re treating Olivia as she deserves to be.” There was a hidden threat within Basilio’s words, Soren gathering from how long the dancer and Khan had known each other. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had considered her like a daughter.

“They’re both good, Olivia’s been actually rather forward recently, she’s here right now catching up with others and waiting with the other Shepherds,” No matter if Chrom was King, you couldn’t wipe away the warming smile from Chrom’s face when he regarded about his child. He was a proud father and was clearly ready for the new position in raising his daughter alongside Olivia’s side. It also seemed Soren was right about Olivia learning from Cordelia and Sumia, it seemed she would join at Chrom’s side no matter if war threatens their doorstep.

“Haha! Sounds like her, and I’m glad to hear Lon’qu is lingering around as well.” Basilio’s light heartedness rolled over, a heavy sigh escaping him, “Well, back to business, we have someone you should hear from. I believe you already know each other. Claims to have insight on what the Valms really want.” Basilio regarded, his eyes darting behind him. Soren remained somber, Chrom glancing briefly to his way then to Virion and Cherche, his eyes narrowing briefly. Chrom shot a glance to Soren but all the tactician could do was nod his head and gesture towards them.

“Good day lords and ladies, how fare you all?” Virion seemed to be his old self again, having washed his belongings and tided his hair back properly, “Allow me the great pleasure, and indeed honor, of introducing myself…”

Soren stared blankly, Chrom following in suite with a sigh, “We already know who you are Virion. Though I don’t believe we’ve met your companion?”

Flustered, the archer waved a hand, attempting to ignore Chrom’s comment, holding back Cherche from introducing herself properly, “Hmph! You know nothing! Prepare for my great unmasking! Long have I posed as archest of archers! Yet that was but a ruse!  Yea, an artifice, to disguise myself as a mere above-average man. In truth, I am—” Cherche coughed, interrupting Virion’s glorified speech.

“May I present Duke Virion of Rosanne. I am his humble servant, Cherche.” She introduced properly, smiling back at Soren’s direction which he nodded. She looked to Chrom now, holding a hand to her chest and bowing forth, “Greetings, sire. You honor us with your presence.”

“Cherche! You stole my moment!” Virion whined, the sharp tongue woman snapping a knowing glance to Virion. Chrom seemed more delighted over her response then Virion, giving his full attention to her.

“A pleasure, Cherche. Perhaps you could speak on your master’s behalf?” Chrom looked plainly at Virion, “He’s riddling us again with his pompous appraisal.” Cherche hummed over Virion’s gawking expression, holding a calculative expression.

“That may speed things along, yes…time is of the essence.” Cherche nodded, “Very well, then. First, concerning our origins, as you heard before, we hail from Rosanne, a fertile territory on the continent of Valm. Milord is the head of House Virion and the rightful ruler of Rosanne. A fact he often reminds us of—and loudly.” 

Soren couldn’t help but to recount when Virion crossed into the Risen field that fateful day, declaring who he was. It seemed like such a long time ago but it was clear and fresh in his mind, replaying with no delays. Virion seemed embarrassed by Cherche’s commentary, scratching his cheek but graciously took the verbal punches, shrugging his shoulders.

“Ha! Is she not a true wit? She gets it all from me, you know.” Virion seemed to take credit for her sharp natured tongue, though, now he wondered if it had double meaning. Soren highly doubted it though.

“So, what brought a noble and his charge all the way across the long sea?” Chrom met Virion’s gaze, frowning, “That was more than two years ago when we first met you Virion. How long has this been going on for?”

At the sound of that, Virion’s expression wavered, finally growing serious.

“The Valmese. Theirs was an unremarkable nation once…tiny, almost pitifully so. Had our continent not shared its name, you might almost have forgotten it existed. So Valm in its state might have remained,” His lips tightened, “If not for Walhart the Conqueror.”

Soren’s brows furrowed, recalling the depths of the chambers in the border of Plegia and Ylisse. The troops that whispered and called for his name. Pyro’s charge and mission to assemble small groups to assist the Valmese in their arrival to the continent. This man’s very name held an intimidation like no other—even the Mad King’s reputation would tremble under this war lord.

Virion sighed, his dark eyes relieving a night, “One by one, he has taken the surrounding realms into his growing empire. When he came to Rosanne—” His teeth gritted briefly, “I had no choice but to ru—” He paused, suddenly realizing where in the room he was at, darting his eyes around, “Er, that is, to recruit new allies to aid my people. That’s why I’ve come!”

Soren frowned at Virion’s choice of lying rather than to speak the truth. It was a half lie after all, but there were finer details that would save the remaining image he had made for himself. Though, perhaps since they were close friends that Virion relied the truth to him—Chrom and the Khans were too important to lose their aid from. He depended on them.

 “….You fled for your life.” Chrom sounded distasteful of Virion’s skittering, sighing.

“More or less, yes.” Cherche acknowledged, “While milord hastily gathered his valuables and guided his people out to safety…I alone remained to keep an eye on the Valmese crisis.” A pause left Cherche’s brows furrowing, resentment lingering in her eyes, “I was there as Rosanne was swallowed up by Emperor Walhart’s overwhelming forces. In the end, I too, fled here on my wvyern’s back here to Regna Ferox seeking asylum.”

“To my great relief, I might add!” There was sincerity hidden behind his cocky smile, “Eligible women are one of Rosanne’s most precious natural resources!” Soren was ready to throw his tome at him. Cherche looked no less amused of it, instead, cutting off Virion entirely and faced Chrom.

“So, begging your pardons,” Cherche seemed to have enough of Virion’s quirks, gazing to the Khans and Chrom, “Perhaps it is time to cut this long story short; Walhart has conquered our continent entirely and now seeks to conquer yours.”

“She claims the Valmese fleet will be at our shores in a matter of days.” Basilio glanced to Soren, “What you and Marth defeated was just the first of many—unfortunately.”

“Marth was here?” Chrom seemed to cling onto that small bit of information, Soren briefly darting his attention away from the Lord’s gaze. Chrom had noticed like Soren when Marth would come it seemed to be a battle of fates with her. Soren was understanding that expression with each time they fought alongside with one another. When caught with everyone’s pressuring stare, Soren combed his bangs off his face and looked to them.

“It was not an easy battle either. The Valmese’s ships are fully capable of taking and destroying a small army before they reach shore. I do not doubt Cherche’s warnings because I’ve seen them for myself. We’ll know soon enough I’m afraid upon _when_ should they arrive.” Soren sighed softly, even Cherche’s stern expression softening.

“I speak only what I know for true, good people. As does my lord. At least…with respect to this matter.” Cherche regarded, Virion seemed to be growing pale at her jabs.

“There’s that wit of yours again…aha.” Virion’s voice drained, “That wonderful…needling, chafing wit…” It was fully amusing to see his attitude combated against this no-nonsense woman. No wonder he needed a woman like Cherche to keep him a line. Chrom’s lips quirked, a crestfallen appearance settling on the creases of his forehead.

“I believe you, all three of you.” Chrom’s attention alerted to Flavia and Basilio, lips pressed tightly, “Basilio, Flavia, we must secure your ports as soon as possible. If the Valmese come—at least we would be ready.”  

‘If they do, and when they do—we wouldn’t have enough of an army to even combat against them,” Soren chided, darting his attention to Chrom. It was a known lecture they’d have with one another, in regards to the nights they would stay up and careful repair the entire Ylissean army that was left in shambles after the war. He remembered Chrom’s frustration and clearly his own from those nights, Chrom should have remembered, “That one ship nearly blasted an entire town, easily decimating their port. If they make ground, it would only be a matter of time for the fires to expand out not only to Regna Ferox but Plegia and Ylisse too!”

“You should know, Valm has the strongest cavalry in the world.” Virion offered in advice, joining Soren’s side, “You will want to station troops with experience fighting mounted troops. Less foot soldiers, the better your chances of keeping your men alive would be.” Now it was Basilio’s turn to argue, claiming that that’s all that Regna Ferox had to offer—knowing his men were clearly some of the best trained warriors on this side of the world.

Soren rubbed his forehead, groaning softly at the growing conflictions that would grow. It was all his worries and patience in watching the growing conflict now coming to fruition. War indeed was at their doorstep. Dear god, mounted troops. That would be a blood shed. Most of Ylisse and Regna Ferox were foot soldiers, the Pegasi riders in shambles after the Plegian war. However, Chrom glanced challengingly to Virion amidst the bickering Flavia and Basilio were going through now.

“Why, Virion, are you volunteering to aid us once again?” Chrom asked.

Startled, a visible sweat drop escaped his temple, but he answered without missing a beat, “Yes, I am.”

Chrom understandably seemed surprised over the matter, but Soren found his dark irises darting towards the slamming doorways. The rest of the group followed when the female general Raimi approached, sweat dripping down her face. In that load of armor, Soren was surprised she had made the run without dropping pieces of the armor to make up for the speed.

“Khan Flavia, there’s a crisis!” Raimi ran in, sweat trailing down her temple. Flavia grew alarmed, quickly hurrying over to her general.

“What happened?”

‘The Valmese! Their ships have been spotted in the port city of Scutum! They are to make landfall tomorrow!”

Flavia’s cheeks grew red and her clenched teeth fully exposed when she immediately barked for the general to organize her troops. Basilio quickly added in to the response, calling for several of his warriors to be added. Chrom knowingly looked to Soren, the young man bitterly pressing his lips together when he caught Sumia and Frederick glancing to one another, hands squeezing briefly. It didn’t help when Olivia joined moments later with Libra by her side, a strained look passing by her face. Eyes were slowly falling upon Soren and he was ready with a plan in mind.

                                             *****************************              

The journey to the port city had not taken as long as it took for Soren and Marth to cross Ferox. The carriage rocked along the remainder of the dirt road before rolling smoothly into the port, passing by all the small houses and shops. Soren’s attention was focused upon Chrom’s intense glance, finding it flowing past the rushing crowds that had packed carts full of possessions. It seemed they had already lived through hardships and at the first sign of it, they were going to run as far east as they could. Soren caught sight of the many villagers and soldiers that passed too quickly to analyze. Ylisse could only handle so many refugees again if war was to come to Ferox’s doorsteps. Soren hoped that word had made it out to the soldiers to evacuate the town before bloodshed would truly spill. carriage traveled further through the city, only stopping by the pier with the open ocean blocked by two large frigates.

“They’re already here,” Chrom hissed and immediately the Shepherds stepped out in boat loads of carriages, the Feroxi army following close behind. Flavia and Basilio led the drove hastily, ordering boldly for the civilians that flocked towards the pier to either leave or take arms. It was easy to clear a path once an order like that was delivered. Chrom led the Shepherds towards the docks, blocks of cargo laid about in a halt from the Valmese presence. Soren seized a formidable plan and when Chrom gave question if he had one, Soren was confident enough to reply that he did. Their attention was averted towards the larger of the two frigates, seeing the Valmese army waiting patiently—armed to the tooth. On board the ship however, seemed to be an argument between a civilian of Regna Ferox and who Soren assumed to be a Valmese general.

Their argument escalated finally, with the general speaking loudly for all to hear, “I will not discuss terms with a peasant; I will issue demands to all! Citizens! Soldiers! Hear my words!”

“Oh great, another speech,” Gaius rolled his eyes, “I can’t wait to hear what he has to say.”

“The Conqueror himself, Emperor Walhart, claims dominion over these lands!” The General exclaimed boldly, “You will grant your new emperor your ships! You will grant him all your provender! You will grant him your loyalty and your every possession!”

The crowds amongst them began to murmur and weep, Flavia attempting to keep order and have the soldiers move hastily in their efforts. The general kept his speech going, Soren fearing he knew what was next to come.

“Once we have claimed them all, you will then surrender this land’s greatest treasure, the Fire Emblem!” At the sound of the Fire Emblem, Chrom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Soren gritted his teeth, knowing what this world would unravel into if the Fire Emblem would fall into their hands. It wasn’t the first time nor the last, “Do this, and your lives will be spared! Resist, and yours lives are forfeit!”

Hundreds of the port residents began to grow fearful of this general, especially when he held forth his spear towards the villager, soldiers beside him forcing him down upon his knees, “Now, kneel! And swear fealty to the mighty Valmese Empire!”

“B-but if you take all that we have, how are we to make our living?” The villager’s voice trembled, “Without food and ships, people will starve!” The villager knocked away the soldiers’ grip, standing proudly upon his two feet, “Would you have us all die?!”

“………You’ll do for now.” Soren had to turn his face away when the general launched his spear forward and the crowds surrounding them screamed. A panic began to arise and civilians bolted to escape the bloodshed that would ensue. Chrom’s attention hurled to those closest to him; Frederick, Sumia at his left while Virion and Gaius remained to his right. Lissa and Libra lingered by Soren’s side

“These savages will never listen to reason. Everyone; prepare to engage!” Chrom ordered.

“Milord….are you sure? Another war…?” Frederick, the ever voice of reason. Soren had thought long and hard about it as well. But in the end, it was Chrom’s decision and his decision that would alter the fate that this continent had been holding onto the past two years. Chrom sighed softly, a serious expression settling.

“I’ve had time to ponder Ylisse’s place in the world, Frederick. And my own…we must stand against evil, in all its forms, or there can be no peace!” Chrom relinquished the Falchion from its sheathe, directing it towards the frigates. The Shepherds followed in suite, weapons taken out and ready for the combat of the Valmese un-boarding from the ship. Before they could charge into Soren’s plans, a powerful screech rang above them and Soren snapped his attention upwards, ignoring the Valmese soldiers that charged towards them.

Virion following in suite but with a charming smile, “Cherche, quite an entrance, isn’t it?”

The Valmese soldier that approached first was immediately crushed underneath a large mass of black. Claws had torn into the poor soul underneath but Soren couldn’t help but stare at the leathery wyvern that stomped forward again, the set of teeth that poked out and threatened to tear out those that came across its path. What was more surprising was that Cherche indeed was riding the massive beast, an axe held steadily in her grasp and looked boldly towards the agape Chrom.

“Sire, if you will have me, I will aid you with all that I have, for this may not be my country but it is my cause!” The winged beast beneath her roared, nearly shattering Soren’s ears from how close he was. Cherche seemed to giggle at the sound of her wyvern, brushing along the large beast’s neck, “My dear Minerva here hungers for a bite of the action as well!

“I think we’d be more than glad to have you!” Chrom spoke loudly than he needed, probably his ears were ringing right now too. Cherche smiled and patted along Minerva’s neck, gently soothing the beast into charging forth against the idle soldiers. Soren grimaced at the brutality the woman had to offer—

“Soren, behind you!” Chrom’s voice rattled, Soren hurling forward without a second thought, his back hitting against the cement floor in a roll, his hair flying wildly over his face. A pair of horses drove past him, their riders armed with lances that were ready to drive him into the ground. Chrom hastily joined by his side, a simple nod was all Soren needed to know who would join by his side in this fight. The knights charged towards the duo, weapons extended and Chrom raised his sword. Chrom blocked a heavy strike from the knights, gritting his teeth every time they would charge and strike. Soren blocked the second round, this time providing Chrom the opening he needed to leap up and cut across a knight’s chest. Soren pulled his tome, holding his hand outwards with sparks swirling and spiraling around his feet.

“Elthunder!” Soren called forth.

Bolts of electricity formed and shot towards the other knight, watching his body drop to the floor harder than a stone. Chrom didn’t hesitate when he rushed passed, driving into the growing crowd of Valmese, Soren not far behind to provide him back up. It was a terrible battle, with civilians fleeing desperately and soldiers on both sides falling into the ocean or pooling blood on the stone floor beside. Fighting along Chrom was fluid motions in battle, either a cast of magic to finish off an opponent or leaping with his Levin sword to block an attack Chrom hadn’t seen coming. They worked seamlessly, as if the war wasn’t just two years ago, but about a day.

 “Frederick! Catch the soldiers coming on Lissa’s left!” Soren’s voice echoed loudly upon the field, having to focus upon all his attention on his comrades. “Lissa! The knights are drawing closer, knock them back with a Thunder! Virion’ guard both Cherche and Sumia so the Valmese archers won’t get to them first!”  

Soren snapped his attention to his right, finding another Valmese swordsman charging hastily at him. Soren withdrew his sword, countering the wild slash. Soren crossed and stabbed without mercy into his chest, pulling back and snapping his attention around. Chrom baited breathe could be heard closely to him as Chrom combated against another row of soldiers, deliberately heading closer and closer towards the ship. They had to get rid of the general, that much was certain. Soren pressed his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly, catching the first Shepherd’s attention he got.

“Libra! Lissa needs assistance!” Soren ordered from afar, watching Virion and Libra switch partners to keep up with the Valmese. Soldiers fell one by one, Cherche having thrown herself across the dock, blood coating her dark axe. Basilio’s troops were creating a path that Chrom took charge in, not hesitating to strike down the Valmese that dared cross his path. The Valmese general seemed to realize how fast his troops went down, judging by how he rallied the remainder of his men to his side.

Soren joined Chrom’s side in charging forward into the fray of the battle, rushing upon the wooden planks and boarded the enemy ships, the general glaring to their direction. They would give no mercy of introduction and only charged at one another. Electricity exploded forth the blade, Soren charging forward to catch the general by surprise. The general blocked his charged attacked, redirecting the sparks of lightning that threatened to damage him. He could feel every strike and club battering against the blade, the very ground vibrating. His magic warped into the very soul of the blade, directing and yearning for a successful strike. Sweat trailed down Soren’s face, flinging off the tips of his vibrant hair. Unlike Commander Pyro, this man was much more sluggish in his attacks and this time Soren wasn’t alone. Soren was knocked back but Chrom darted in his place, clashing blades with the tiring general.

Soren stumbled back, savoring the respite Chrom allowed for him to expel upon. Instead, he focused on the moment to command the other Shepherds in overhauling the ship. The momentary break allowed Soren to reevaluate his surroundings, reassuring himself of the position he was leading himself to. Chrom had the general in his place but the general was lashing out, wildly attempting to catch Chrom’s neck. Returning into the fray, Soren countered each fierce strike with a blow of his own, lucky even if managed to hit twice.

At the rush of a plan, Soren caught the lance downwards into the wood of the ship, temporarily halting the man’s blind attacks. It was only with a bent back that Chrom rolled over Soren and launched his Falchion forward, stabbing the general in the chest, blood flowing freely. A startled gurgle escaped from the general but nothing more when he had fallen off his stead onto the wooden deck. It no longer took Soren by surprise how fragile a human life was—but slowly standing up and looking upon the fallen general’s face, his eyes narrowed. Chrom expelled a heavy sigh when he stood tall, Soren joining by his side and resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you all right, Chrom?” Soren questioned.

“I think so,” Chrom regarded, his teeth gritting and looked over the edge of the port, towards the burning houses and dock that was torn to bits. It looked as if the Valmese did exactly what they came here to do. A message—a warning. “This victory comes with a price.” There was so much work to be done. If the Valmese caught them like this….even with knowing their arrival would wreck destruction, actually seeing it…the possibility was starkly real.

Soren wiped his jaw, briefly regarding the general’s body before dismissing himself, getting up to check on the other Shepherds. Hours came of attempting to clean up the bodies and rumble that fell upon to the streets proved tedious work. Basilio and Flavia oversaw the cleanup efforts, their expressions set in stone and briefly glancing to one other. This fight truly proved the might of what the Valmese had to offer if they were to get upon land. It was with a heavy heart that Soren knew he had to back for a moment and settle himself along piled on logs of wood, his thoughts crafting and scratching off next settlements of plans.

The tactician let out a steady exhale, his eyes focusing upon the Feroxi soldiers who had fallen in battle, grimacing at how many of them had fallen. Nine, ten, eleven—it kept going the longer stared and watched the clean-up effort go. Soren eventually was surprised with Lissa and Libra, the young woman finally able to throw her arms around him and nearly squeeze his neck off. She chided him for merely sitting down while everyone else did the arduous work but Libra was Soren’s saving grace in reminding her that Soren was the Grand Tactician; he was working. It was there when Lissa had sat down, asking if he was okay. Soren didn’t know how to answer, especially when she recalled catching the black streaks under his eyes. It took a heavy effort to reassure her it was only stress from the battle—not entirely—but the lie would have to do for now.

Another hour of cleaning, finally Basilio gestured at Soren’s direction to head over, the tactician simmering with ideas and techniques that could be handled for now.

“The town is in shambles, as is my army.” Basilio regrettably remarked, an unease atmosphere growing from the small revelation.  

“This is most troubling news,” Frederick acknowledged, having been standing firmly along a shattered wall, his eyes narrowing towards the remainder of the town, “Feroxi soldiers are the finest east of the long sea. If they are having trouble, we are ALL in trouble.”

“That’s not the half of it.” Flavia glanced out to the wayward ocean, “This was just the vanguard—but a taste of the meal yet to come.”

“I don’t want to go for seconds,” Lissa grimaced, joining by Olivia’s side, the young Queen having proved her valor in battle.

“Once it arrives, their host will wash over the whole continent in weeks.” Soren rubbed his forehead, growing weary of the prospect.

“As did Rosanne and many others before it…” Virion remarked, “We have to do something before the many refugees that sought to escape become slaughtered.”

“There’s no way we could repel them and defend the people,” Basilio rubbed his jaw, his eye shutting, “It would be a slaughter house.”

“Ylisse is no better equipped to handle an attack from the sea either…no matter how many times Soren dethroned the library in attempt to plan something.” Chrom regarded, sighing, “Soren, what do you think?”

Soren rubbed his jaw carefully, looking to the dragged bodies that fell in battle, recounting their greatest strength was their own strength and working with one another. It was a dangerous force and with their numbers clearly above theirs—it could only be a wonder how they are in the main land. Soren hummed in frustration, casting his eyes towards the boats. They would come in drives—they’re on the seas right now…

“Virion was right, their greatest strength is their cavalry which puts us at a disadvantage….on land….” Soren peered off into the water behind him, his blood working and formulating, a horrendous but brilliant plan unfurling in his head, “But if we were to catch them at sea…”

“At sea…” Chrom repeated slowly, a grimace settling, “But how? Ylisse has no warships, no does Ferox.” Chrom stopped, already drawing a conclusion. Soren almost regretted turning to look at Chrom’s expression, finding his eyes darkening and his jaw shift to resist clenching his teeth, “Wait, you don’t mean.” Soren hesitated, he hesitated because he knew he didn’t want to resort to it. He remembered reading countless books and looking at maps and talking to merchants that Plegia has a robust port—and still contained all the wealth to be able to afford a campaign as such. It would be the luck they needed to fight against the Valmese…but it would mean going to their leader. Their _new_ leader.

Livid, Chrom shook his head, waving a hand “No. Absolutely not, out of the question.” Soren hadn’t seen Chrom look that fiercely opposite of a plan he laid out, “There has to be another way! I refuse to speak with the Plegians.”

“They have gold, boy! Countless ships!” Basilio chided, jabbing a finger towards Chrom’s shoulder, “And more importantly, we have a fart’s chance in the wind without them.” Great way to describe it

“The oaf is right….crude but right.” Flavia looked disgusted he made that reference, “There’s only one path forward.” Chrom remained silent, even with Olivia briefly resting a hand towards his shoulder, looking and whispering carefully to him. It wasn’t like anyone wanted this, this was the last thing anyone would want to wish upon Chrom to handle. But the war had strained relations with Regna Ferox and Plegia after they took their repercussions from the war. Right now, the Ylisseans looked of fairer light to them…the irony. Chrom grimaced and held Olivia’s hand briefly in his own, looking to her for a moment of clarity. Finally, he sighed.

“……Very well. Send a messenger and request a summit immediately. Let us pray this new king is more reasonable then their last.”


	23. Sacred Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been busy, moving again and dealing with a pitch of money issue. Hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter, I actually enjoyed writing for this one. 
> 
> Thank you Keybearer with the inspiration and editing you offered for this chapter. I love you. 
> 
> Enjoy you guys, thank you for reading and see you guys for the next one~

_*****************************_

_Revealing the truth is like lighting a match._

_It can bring light or it can set your world on fire._

_*****************************_

 

“Is this the place?” Water soothed and washed over the shore, drumming in Soren’s ears over the Shepherds making landfall. Carriages waited close by with dark armor knights equipped with iron lances in hand. A chief commander, observing their actions, acted as the guide between the Ylissean King to the Plegian fortress that rested miles within the guarded island.

“The island, yes, but not the castle. It should be another thirty minutes by carriage.” Frederick had answered for Lissa, watching over Chrom’s delicate attendance to secure the carriages and divide the Shepherds between. Lon’qu and Vaike stood closely behind him, easing the knight’s duties of always being by his Lord’s side.

“Ugh,” Lissa’s frustration wasn’t met with resistance from Frederick for once, and Soren couldn’t help but join her in letting out a tense sigh. Carrion Island—not exactly what the Shepherds had expected from the Plegian choice of meeting.

A remote terrain at the border of Ylisse and Plegia was across a large bay of water. It was a safe distance from one another if conflict were raised. Soren arranged some of the finesse details of the expedition but if Chrom helped it, he was largely uninvolved with associating with any of the Plegian messengers, rather Basilio and Flavia handling the nitty gritty. Even passenger ships that would ferry them to the shore of Carrion Isle were out of his hands. Days passed when word was finally returned and the Shepherds, united once again, headed off to the fortress. It was strangely soothing for Soren to be seating upon the opened carriage, listening to Lissa chat eagerly with Maribelle while Libra briefly paid mind to Gaius’s ridiculous notion to give up his first born for candy—Stahl seemed a little baffled when he was asked if he would do the same thing.

“I’m not as crazy for sugar as you are, Gaius,” Stahl retorted, clearly disappointing the thief when the wooden stick of the lollipop drooped downwards with his crestfallen expression.

Soren watched carefully, enwrapped enough in his texts to seem too preoccupied to be bothered. Though war had brought them together in the first place, it seemed a bit surreal to be reunited for similar reasons. Perhaps there was further at stakes then for the previous war. United against an entire continent that threatened to wash the land in blood if reckoned with seemed extremely urgent compared to the Mad King’s rampage. It almost made Gangrel look like a writhing bug, squashed and attracting the rodents that now came for his carcass.

**_“Some trip this is, huh?”_ **

Soren’s eyes widened, and for a moment he stilled, uncertain if this was another ruse, another trick his fearful hesitation was playing. But, the voice teased eagerly, **_“Just because you don’t want to look at me doesn’t mean I’m not here.”_**

Right across from him...he saw the boots, warped and frizzled in some way, as if they were a distant memory-

They parted open, the person across clearly comfortable in his chair...that shouldn’t even have been physically filled. It was impossible-

**_“Hey, look up when someone’s speaking to you.”_ **

The gloved hand reached up, and Soren threw his head back, staring wide-eyed at the mirage of the man a foot across. The pearly white grin sent a rattling club of ice against his spine, his body erecting in the most unpleasant way.

**_“How you holding?”_**   The figure leaned in his seat, curiously tilting his head, **_“It looks like you’ve seen a ghost...”_**

Soren clutched his trembling digits, giving himself a reassuring squeeze. He shut his eyes, and when he pried them unwillingly open....the man was gone.

‘Everything is fine...everything is fine...’

Soren shifted his movement to his side, and caught himself staring towards the wooden panels beneath his feet, feeling the carriage rock underneath. He glanced out the open flap toward the distance where a dark castle resided in the bottom of a valley; it’s immense, grandeur towers catching the fleeting rays of sunlight. It seemed to soak and absorb the very light that touched it, the black marble barely able to shine.

**_“Beautiful, isn’t it?”_ **

The man was suddenly hovering outside the window, mere inches away from Soren’s peeking face. He rested his elbow against the wooden frame, and let out a huge sigh, **_“I think you’ll like it.”_**

Soren rotated his gaze towards the others when he had heard their chatter cease, their attention focused out the flap as well. For a moment, he had hoped they saw what he dealt with—but the moment he looked back, the man vanished. The closer they grew to the castle, Soren felt unease at the pit of his stomach. Something about the castle was familiar—for a moment he thought he had been here before. His chest tightened, and he steadily found himself breathing through his mouth to catch his breathe. Stahl noticed and asked the tactician if he was all right.

“I’m fine,” Soren lied, “Don’t worry about me.”

It seemed reasonable to worry though, but he had to keep his head upon his shoulders for the sake of the Shepherds. If he began to fall for the throbbing infliction in a time when they needed his help, it could be disastrous. Soren ignored the pounding and threatening infliction against his forehead as they drew closer to the fortress. The groups of carriages divided at this point, Soren’s and the carriage that Chrom sat in being the only ones that continued upwards the trail. The remainders were to set up a camp due to how long the meeting was to go for and until morning for the passenger ship to return for them. At first, Soren hadn’t thought to take the stories of the countless mages that guarded the walls of the castle till he noticed them hiding within the shadows while they crossed the open gate. Civilians seemed to not exist; perhaps this was a retreat for high tier nobles, those that descended from royalty, or a mere Plegian base of command.

When Soren had stepped out the halted carriage, he had caught sight of Chrom and Frederick meeting with a Plegian guard. It seemed that not all the Shepherds were to enter inside, much to Maribelle and Libra’s relief. The waning fortress was intimidating, but perhaps what frightened them more was the mere fact that they were on Plegian grounds—or worse—followers of the Grimleal faith. Soren’s eyes crossed over to Libra, noticing the monk’s grip upon his axe was tighter than usual, confirming his initial thoughts.

Tharja had been right to worry about the large castle, offering Soren small advice, “Don’t stay upon the carpets, it’s been told some fortress holds secret runes in plain of sight. We wouldn’t want you getting cursed.” Lissa grimaced at the sound of that and had jokingly wished it would curse those who stood upon it with unruly hair. After Frederick took the time to warn Gaius and Stahl to keep their eyes peeled, Chrom gestured for Frederick and Soren to follow at his side.

Entering the fray of the castle, chandeliers alit along the long, vermillion carpet that expanded out towards a mammoth room. The trio walked carefully behind the Plegian soldier, memorizing the path they took to get out of there in case of an emergency. Continuing down the narrowing corridors, Soren’s headache seemed to triple. Nauseated and slowing in his steps, his mind failed to neglect the increased hammering headache he was battling. He pressed a hand to his temple, his fingers rubbing down while his lips stitched tightly. Something, something seemed familiar about this place...

The way the flames of the torches lit the long hallways, the carved walls glistened and hung mystery around every corner. Soren wasn’t sure, but it felt like he had walked these entries before—that he knew they were going to turn right before the guard even made the turn. The walls morphed and rolled side to side, the hallway having transported itself upon a ship, charging into a storm. Something was calling out to him, his name a whisper in the quiet hallways. It needed him—it craved for his return. It craved to be whole again.

“Ugh,” Soren had gone clammy, his hands sweating and gripping upon his sleeves, the flickering light of the torches growing too bold to even draw close to. He drew his cowl over his face and attempted to steel himself. He had to make it through this meeting, securing this fragile alliance with Plegian would make or break the fate of the entire continent. They entered a large foyer, frames containing several great battles, some detailing religious worshipping. Soren paused briefly by a large drawing, catching sight of thunderous wings that expanded out from the dark clouds in the painting. Worshippers knelt in prayer from the beaming red eyes that pierced the storm vapors. Chrom’s dismissing voice and Frederick’s thanks to the guard drowned from the reality, Soren’s attention drawing closer to the hanging portrait. It seemed….

**_Redire sanguinis, cordis quaerite latent intus vanitatum humiliati sumus –_ **

**_Grima corde nostro reddamus domino divino_ **

Chanting whispered and drummed in Soren’s ears, his neck growing hot. It grew louder, surrounding him in prayer and incantation, his ears ringing.

**_Return the blood and heart,_ **

**_seek what powers lie within,_ **

**_archive our most sacred promise_ **

**_\--return the heart of Grima to our divine lord_ **

Return…the heart?

For a sickening moment, a loud beat rang in his ears, as if his heart traveled up to clog his ear drums. Faster and faster, Soren’s mouth had gone dry, his fingers digging into his palms. Then, a hand reached and shook him violently, snapping his dark eyes to meet Frederick’s.

“Soren, are you all right?” Frederick questioned. For a moment, Soren had forgotten how to speak. The beating died down, returning the quiet atmosphere.

“Yes...” Soren swallowed, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t quite look ‘fine’, Chrom interjected. He was upon Soren’s other side, almost startling the tactician against the wall behind him. That alone left Chrom furrowing his brows together, “Lissa told me you didn’t seem well in the carriage. I’m starting to see what she meant, you look pale.”

“It’s just nerves…” Soren brushed off, “The last time we were on Plegian soil, someone close to us had died. The last time we were on Plegian soil we had killed a deranged king. Is it wrong for me to feel trepidation?”

At that, Chrom’s expression softened and casted his gaze away momentarily, sighing, “I know…I don’t like being here either. Rather I was the first to express it.”

“Something you’ve been clear to remind us of, milord.”  Frederick teased, avoidant of Chrom’s pointed glance, his lips pouting. At that Soren smiled, his tense shoulders slouching slightly.

“Anyways,” Chrom admittedly smiled lightly from the joke, reached forward to secure Soren’s shoulder, grounding him reassuringly, “We’re in this together, all of us, Soren.”

“I know, I know,” Soren felt his head throb, a sickening chuckle echoing off the walls of his mind, “Just be careful of what you say.”

“That I’m inclined to agree with,” Frederick stood closer towards Chrom’s side, his gaze focused towards the end of the room, “We need the Plegians to agree to this if we’d ever hope to stand a chance against the Valmese.”

Chrom hesitated and Soren glanced to him, his eyes widening by a fraction to find the static void hovering behind the king. A waver of reality moved when the mystery man held a finger to his lips, a loud shush escaping. The static warped and shuddered when the figure walked away down the hall, his arms lifting towards his cowl. Soren had thought he had seen strands of hair begin to peak out but the man vanished at the sound of a door cracking open. Heels echoed like dynamite in his ears, cracking and sparking louder the closer it drew. The three men had found themselves turning towards the owner, a familiar woman decked in slimming black robes, the mid center of her chest and stomach exposing the purple tattoos that drew across her body. His ears ringed again and Soren twisted his head to the side, resisting the seethe expelling from his lips.

“Greetings, Prince Chrom.” The inauspicious woman, Aversa, approached them, “Plegia welcomes you.” She bowed forward, her ivory locks curling along the nape of her neck, exposing the sharped armory that she still pertained from the previous war. 

 “Aversa,” Chrom painfully regarded, his teeth clenching. Frederick reached and tugged lightly at the back of Chrom’s ivory cape—reminding him where they all stood. Chrom withdrew a heavy breath, meeting the baleful glint in her eyes, “…It seems you are well.”

“What can I say?” Aversa smiled alluringly, “It seems fate has designs for me yet.”

“It certainly seems that way,” Chrom held a tempestuous attitude within the remark, carefully choosing his next words, “You serve the new King, then? This….Validar?”

**_Long live the King, don’t you think?_ **

Something…soured in Soren’s stomach again at the mention of the name. His boggling vision darted around past Aversa, wondering where the man this time would be hiding. Something about it didn’t sit well and he wasn’t sure why. The name…the name felt familiar. The teasing was a sure enough sign that it was supposed to mean something to him. But what?

“I do,” Aversa nodded, a tranquil expression dimming over the smirking corners of her lips.

Frederick held an uneasy expression, his hands folded tightly behind his back, “They say he worships Grima?”

“Why yes, of course for he is Grimleal. We are both believers.” It was difficult to imagine someone such as Aversa being a mistress of faith. Aversa’s gaze fell to the side, towards the large mural of the beast hidden within the clouds. “It was a challenging time, yet he kept order where there might have been chaos.”

“Validar was of power prior to the war?” Soren pressed, raising a brow, Seelie’s story drawing to mind. Aversa seemed to glance over briefly to him, an unreadable expression buried within her eyes. Surprise? Or perhaps…thoughtful.

“Yes, Validar comes from a lengthy line of rulers in Plegia. My liege often says it was his faith that got him through, both when the uprising had taken his family away from him, and for both the war many years past and Gangrel’s passing.” Aversa exclaimed.

An awkward tone had taken the room, Frederick and Chrom briefly sharing glances. It seemed…they were still uncomfortable being in such a place that worships Grima over their known belief in Naga…but it was clear to see what damages had been wrought from it. Soren pressed his lips tightly together, his eyes glancing briefly to the mural once more, the radiating orbs piercing his line of view.

 “We had meant to arrange an official visit to Ylisstol, but we knew it might have been too soon. At least, my liege had thought so.” Her eyes flickered to Chrom, “He thought it was best to allow the scars of this war to heal before reaching forth for peace.”

Something unsettling left Soren briefly glancing to Chrom, seeing his expression stoned face and passive. As if battling an inner battle to determine his next choice of words. Chrom parted his lips to respond when the doors opened and Aversa turned to look over her shoulder, “Ah, here is my lord now.”

A shadowy figure headed towards them, the outlining of the body revealing a tall, lean man in his late 50s at least. The closer he got, the sooner Soren noticed the finer details in his outfit. Of the golden neck brace that ran along his jaw and throat, the Plegian mage robes that he adorned, the blue and purple fabric interweave in gold. Yet…the eyes that pierced along the hem of the robes caused Soren’s eyes to narrow.

**_Long live thy King_ **

Soren’s chest jolted and his arms wildly spasm, his eyes widening.. Ice formed along his spine when he saw the King of Plegia gracefully walk towards them, No, this was not possible., this couldn’t be the King that ruled over them now. He looked—he looked like— A memory replayed hastily in the depths of his mind, replaying the night that he dreaded for months.

_“Oh, if this isn’t a grand surprise?”_

_The assassin stood in the hollows of his mind, Soren boldly holding an iron sword, shaking from his rough fall. chuckling while Soren grabbed his sword and pointed at him. It grew to a bold laugh, his lips curling to a sinister smirk, “Look at what we have here, a boy who thinks he’s a man. To think—this is where you been hiding.”_

_“What are you speaking of!” Soren demanded._

_“I know you boy….” A lance had went through the sorcerer’s neck, his face revealed—_

Soren heaved, gripping his wrist painfully to tear himself from the memory, cringing and turning his face away briefly. That alone earned Frederick’s concern, the tall man briefly blocking Soren’s presence from the approaching Plegian royalty, Chrom overlooking with worry buried in his eyes.

“Soren?”

“It’s not possible,” Soren whispered urgently, “Stahl—Stahl killed him.”

“What?” Frederick’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Do you mean—”

 “An honor to finally meet you, sire.” Soren swallowed roughly, shutting his mouth when Frederick turned briefly to reveal Validar had approached them, laying a hand upon his chest, “I am Validar, king regnant of Plegia.” The man bowed gently forth, a remarkable sign coming from the new king of Plegia. Chrom seemed a bit at ease but Soren, Soren was frozen in place. He remembers—he remembers that face from the night of the assassination attempt.

“The honor is mine, good king. Is it…possible we met somewhere before?” Chrom’s brows knitted closely, examining closer towards his face but Validar smiled.

“Oh ho, I’m quite certain I would remember any encounter with Ylissean royalty.”

“Gods…this can’t be happening.” Soren pressed a knuckle to his lips, biting into the leather fabric of his gloves. Chrom leaned towards him, whispering what was the matter. Soren could only briefly explain it before realization dawned upon Chrom’s face, horror starting to set. Soren had stepped away when he caught Validar’s pressing gaze, a smirk growing.

“And this must be Sir Soren,” Validar regarded.

“………You know of me, sire?” Soren had almost forgotten how to speak, his lips moving automatically.

Validar chuckled in amusement, gesturing towards Soren, “The entire world knows of Ylisse's master tactician! And indeed, I see the sparkle of wisdom in your eyes.” There was a far heavier implication that Soren could barely identify. Chrom pulled Soren briefly to him, his head hunching slightly for only Soren to hear.

“But we killed him, Soren,” Chrom whispered, “Stahl was the one to identify him in the courtyard while collecting the bodies.”

“I know, but the resemblance is uncanny!” Soren hissed back.

“How could he possibly—” A cough had cut Chrom’s sentence off, the young King turning his head abruptly back towards Validar’s direction.

“My, the negotiations haven't even begun and already so much whispering...” Validar’s interruption brought the two back to the matter at hand, cheeks brushed red in embarrassment.

“My apologies, King Validar. We meant no disrespect,” Chrom apologized. Frederick piped up afterwards, apologizing for his lord’s behalf once more, allowing Soren to turn his attention over and lean over.

“Chrom? What should we do?” Soren whispered. Chrom looked hesitant, darting his eyes briefly to the Plegian lord and sighed, frowning.

“Nothing for now. But stay close, and be ready for anything...” Chrom insisted with a hush.

Soren grimaced but held back from fully exposing his displeasure, catching eye of Aversa’s wandering gaze towards him, smirking. Inhaling through his nose, Soren and Chrom faced back to the Plegians, Chrom apologizing on his behalf once more, complying for the negotiations to continue.

“Then let us get to it,” Aversa regarded with a smile, “Plegia can offer no soldiers, but will provide 800 warships and 200 transports. In addition, we would be pleased to fully fund the campaign against Valm.”

“That is... surprisingly generous of you, milord. We could not ask for more, quite literally. You offer most all your assets...” Frederick looked surprisingly swayed by the offer, and Soren no less was as well. To be offered nearly all Plegia’s bounties by mere ask. It was something concocted in one Sumia’s fairy tale literatures. Something drummed in the back of his mind, signaling something was off and suspicious of the offer.

Validar stroked along his elongated beard, humming thoughtfully, “I would give troops as well, but our army remains in shambles from the last war. I trust the gold and ships will suffice as a sign of our commitment to the cause?”

Soren and Chrom shared a glance, Chrom hesitate to look relieved over the easy negotiations. Soren darted his eyes fixatedly to return the thanks to the Plegian King, Chrom exhaling and doing so, “Of course it will. Thank you, King Validar.” Chrom seemed pleasantly astonished, and it wasn’t wrong for him to feel that was. It was astounding that the new King of Plegia would be able to agree so easily. Regarless of Soren’s concern on this potential assassin now ruling as king, this was an opportunity they couldn’t pass over. Validar seemed pleased of the results, having stroked his beard once more before extending out his arms to the side, smiling.

“The honor is ours, my prince. I look forward to building a strong bond between our two nations.” Validar regarded

“As do I,” Instead of smiling, he kept a polite expression, Chrom shifted in place. He was ready to leave. Soren was mentally relieved, a slight release in pressure in his temples left him reenergized to move again. “Then, if there's nothing else? My men and I must hurry back to Port Ferox.”

“Oh, so soon?” Aversa played a small pout onto her lips, something that left Soren unsettled, “But I have one more introduction to make.”

“...Yes?” Chrom urged after a moment, “And who would that be?

“A hierophant, the highest of his order in all Plegia.” Validar exclaimed, “It’d only be for a moment then we’ll all be on our way. It’d be rude not to introduce someone as renowned and cared for as him.” 

Soren didn’t want to stay much longer, he never had such repulsion to leave an area. He had briefly looked to Frederick, ready to tell that he was going to check on the others but the doors had opened. A pair of heavy boots followed the shutting of the doors, a cloaked individual strolling to where they stood. Immediately Soren caught notice of the robes that he wore, exactly detailed to the ones he wore. They held years over his own, torn and cutted along the hems of the sleeves and the cape that drew at his back. Throbbing pain intensified and Soren’s vision grew blurry, pressing his palm to the corner of his eyes, blinking harshly.

“So you lead the people in worship? We were just discussing religion earlier…” Chrom felt miles away, the rest of the room drawing behind a dark curtain. Was….was he imagining it? Was the shadow of his dreams here, present for all those to view him??

No…it had to be his mind playing a trick on him.

The figure remained quiet, the shadow of his tucked hood submerging his features in darkness. The mysterious figure was standing across from him, steps behind Aversa and King Validar. When Soren had thought he felt uncomfortable before, it had only intensified with his hasting heartbeat and sweaty palms. Something didn’t seem right about this man. No—something seemed familiar. Stretching behind him, following in his every footstep—no—gods no he wasn’t imagining it.

The air around him was deathly, as if a plague followed him. The man remained adamantly quiet when Chrom piped again, “I’m sorry….did we offend you…..?”

**_“The heart still sleeps, but the blood flows through it. And the blood is strong…”_ **

A sickening smirk finally revealed and Soren’s stomach dropped, his hand jerking at his side. Frederick seemed to take the advantage once more, “Good hierophant, I would ask you lower your cowl. In Ylisse, it is a courtesy expected of one in the presence of royalty.”

“…..You are a long way from Ylisse, sir.” The hierophant spoke coolly, deep and tantalizing. The very words sank in Soren’s chest, his head rattling, “but very well,” His gloved fingers tucked back to the cowl, pulling back to reveal the dark burgundy locks that were pushed back, strands slipping out to the side. The face was sharp, burnt umber orbs scanning maliciously to Soren. His jaw, the shape of his face—yes—there was some years difference but—

What in Naga’s name was going on.

Soren could only stand, the ringing in his ears at full blast. He felt like he would break down on his knees at any moment. Chrom and Frederick no doubt saw the uncanny resemblance, catching sight of Chrom’s swinging arm motioning between Soren and the hierophant. Soren couldn’t exactly make out the harsh lines Chrom’s lips were forming, the ringing devouring all. It wasn’t till Frederick’s iron grip had shaken his entire soul, suddenly a whirlwind of sounds exploding into his ears, catching the end of Chrom’s infuriation.

“—some sort of joke? What sorcery is this?” Chrom demanded, his teeth gritted and livid at the display before them.

At that, the hierophant coolly smirked, cockily swaying in his stance, “Is this better? I apologize for my ill-mannered attitude, your highness,” He bowed forward, his hand flamboyantly rotating in a circle, Soren’s eyes laying on his gloves, the feverish desire to rip it off all too becoming, “I am Reon, the hierophant of the Plegian people.”

Reon?

To finally pour acid upon his neck, it felt sickening to face the horrid stalker that haunted the late of his dreams. To see the stalker, wear the same face, a bit, some years having sharpened his jaw and hallow rings forming around his eyes, it was all too much for Soren to even process. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even breathe properly. All he could do was stare and watch Chrom attract Reon’s wandering orbs. In the back, Validar seemed to approve of this madness.

“Isn’t this a coincidence?” Validar remarked humorously, “Why, you two look as if you could be brothers. What a /small/ world.” Something hot seared and coiled in his stomach, Soren’s teeth clenching and barely raising his glaring gaze to the Plegian King. He knew, of _course_ he would know.

“What is the meaning of this…..for Reon and Soren—” Chrom looked heatedly towards the King but Aversa had made herself present once more, hands clapped together in front of her chest. A set of moving armor rolled from the back of the room, Frederick and Chrom briefly turning to see soldiers heading to them. 

“Milord, I’m afraid we do not have time for such trivia, “Aversa grinned politely, “And you have a very long, hard journey ahead. My Lord and Reon have a public mass to attend to. I apologize for cutting this meeting so short.”

Chrom battled exchanging his expression from pure frustration to forcibly calmed. The soldiers reached the Ylissean noble, exchanging with their lord upon safely escorting them back to the remainder of the Shepherds outside. Soren hadn’t realized he turned away from Reon’s lustful gaze, shivering and shutting his eyes. Frederick and Chrom had the slightest idea of what to make of the moment, instead, hurriedly deciding to leave the vicinity. With a bitter farewell, Chrom had led Soren and Frederick away, Aversa’s voice offering one final piece of advice, “Oh, and be careful on your way back to Port Ferox, this time of year the highroads of Plegia can be quite treacherous…”

 

*****************************

 

Hours had passed since leaving the Plegian fortress, time seemingly almost as irrelevant as the sparks of ember that lingered from the campfire. Soren probed the fire with a thick stick, his eyes glazing over the finer details around him. The world had kept spinning and working, it was surprising when Lissa and Libra had eagerly met Chrom the minute he had stepped foot outside, perhaps relieved that nothing had happened to him. Frederick had reassured Lon’qu and Maribelle that nothing drastic had occurred on the inside. It wasn’t a lie…..but it wasn’t the truth either. It was Gaius, Tharja and Stahl that noticed Soren step from behind Frederick, stricken with a muteness that would haunt him for the rest of the evening.

It wasn’t necessarily noticed, but for those closer to the tactician, they had known something seemed off. Soren had played it off to Lissa’s curious nature as burdened with the new strategy he would have to spend to develop. Tharja tried to get him to come out of his tent but he requested he wanted to be alone. Despite Tharja being considerably clingy, she respected his decision and even better, stopped Gaius and Stahl from rolling by in. Soren sat in silence for many hours, unable to find the energy to move. It was only recently he hauled and carried himself to the camp fire, preoccupying himself and insisting to take a watch for the few hours he would continue to be up. It hadn’t even hit him yet that, despite the new revelations that unfurled, war was soon to be declared between the east and west continents. There would be no time to waste, there was nothing that could afforded to be missed—

“Soren?”

He was slacking off right now, drowning in this pitiful lake of an existential crisis. By the gods, just a look at someone that might have resembled him had sent him crumbling to his knees, head buried in his hands. His thoughts had collided and burned a flamed with a ridiculous notion that there was something larger at hand, something he couldn’t control. Soren caught himself laughing hollowly to himself. He was such a wreck. And people expected him to lead the Shepherds into a war against Valm?

“Soren??”

The heat burned his cheeks from how close he drew to the camp fire, convinced he was flushed as bright as the flames that danced and weaved in front of him. Perhaps, if he got closer, he could burn whatever memories were buried within him. Pull away whatever connections he could have to that hierophant—to the King—to all of Plegia.

Gods, why—

“SOREN.”

Hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him back upon the log, reality shifting back and drawing all rustling of the tents being set up, the barking laugh of Sully echoing even louder than Gregor’s. Pots and pans were clattering, possibly getting scrubbed on the other end of the campsite. Soren wearily blinked, realizing where he was sitting and that he had taken his jacket off in the brisk of the chilly night. It was only by looking at his exposed arms that he caught the arm of another, following it up to find Chrom. And he was not happy to say the least.

“Errr…” Soren couldn’t even find the words to start. Clearly, Chrom had thought prior on exactly what he wanted to say to him. Cause the way the creases on his forehead formed when he frowned led Soren to hypothesis what he was about to say.

“Soren, are you out of your mind?!” At this point, Soren wouldn’t correct him. He kind of was, “You almost fell into the fire!”

“I noticed,” Soren rubbed his face tiredly, “That certainly was a wake-up call.”

“Frederick’s training is a wake-up call,” Chrom chided, “That was nearly falling on fire.” Chrom sat on the open spot of grass beside Soren’s feet, his eye contact never breaking, “Ever since this morning, you’ve been buried within this waking dream that you can’t shake yourself out of.”

Soren pressed his lips together, refusing to argue with Chrom on the subject. He wouldn’t know how to explain it, if it was even worth explaining. No—of course it was—it had to be since he was so integrated within the army. Gods, please don’t let him drag them down with this.

“Soren, please, tell me you at least have gotten something to eat?” Chrom pressed. Soren finally relented in breaking the silence, sighing.

“Chrom, I don’t need babying,” Soren chided, “Tharja had made sure of it personally. She brought a bowl over earlier.”

Soren didn’t mean to sound so sharp. His head still pounded like Sully’s horse was loose once more, ready to trample over Vaike and himself. Though that was a better mercy to lay upon him. Chrom sighed, rubbing his temple and pressed his back against the wooden log, threatening to lay completely over it.

“I’m worried about you, Soren. I know I don’t express it enough, but you’ve done so much for me—I feel like I’m not doing enough for you.”

“…You’re not wrong to feel that way, Chrom.” Soren admitted hesitantly, “But it’s hard to ask much from you too. You’re my friend, but you’re also the leader of a lot of people. It…” Soren sighed softly, “It looks bad dealing with someone as me.”

The flames flickered and dwindled, the conversations of the campground dying in the background. Soren knew Chrom was gazing at him, but he couldn’t bare make eye contact with the King.

“Soren….you’ve…..you know me.” Chrom sounded hurt, but Soren couldn’t break away from his stubborn thought process.

“I know you don’t care of what slates of past we’ve come from.” Soren sighed briefly, twiddling his thumbs against one another, “I just…have a lot on my mind.”

Silence engulfed them again, but Chrom was quick to ask, “Have you been talking to Gaius.”

Soren sighed, “Chrom.”

“I swear—he has that mentality like that—I’ve tried to tell him we all don’t think he’s just a thief through and through. He’s proved himself countless times—”

“Chrom—you know I’ve been like this!” Soren stopped him from rambling, heavily sighing, “It’s been like this ever since I found out I was a Plegian, or at least we assumed so…” Soren gripped a lock of his hair, tugging gently down. “I just…even during all the meetings….even after the war….people will always see us differently. Despite Emmeryn’s plead for peace, no one can exactly be rid the racism that lingers. I just had thought……maybe if I just keep doing what Chrom asks, he’d never lose my place by his side. That you would be able to stand tall and in the light while I work in the shadows….” Soren murmured off, suddenly growing self-conscious of what he was ranting, realizing it was none other than Chrom that he was venting to. Things about Chrom to Chrom. Soren wanted to bury his face into his coat and roll away.

Chrom looked mortified, his mouth agape and unable to produce a coherent sound. Soren felt ashamed to have admitted it, but it was better to speak of it now then to pent it up. The option for rolling away still seemed rather good the longer Chrom remained quiet.  

“Soren…that’s the last thing I want,” Chrom regarded, “We promised to be two halves of a better whole…..and we’re going to be.” Chrom reached and squeezed his left hand. “…I understand that I don’t exactly know how to fix the problems that is going on. I already have a hefty promise to keep Emmeryn’s vision alive…….and sometimes I feel like I will never be enough. Sometimes…I look to you for inspiration.”

“Me?” Soren scoffed, “I’m not sure how much inspiring I hold.”

“Soren—if we need to give you glasses, we will.” Chrom stared deadly serious at him, “You may have no background—but it’s that exact reason so many of the Shepherds believe in you and trust your tactics. I mean—take Gaius and Vaike. I’m a noble—I will never understand going out into the streets and eating with the commoners like they do. I even snuck out with Gaius to a circus and I couldn’t believe my eyes. The world seemed too bright and drummed in my ears, honestly, it was an experience that I enjoyed…but I had a challenging time understanding personally.”

“…You snuck out to a circus?” Soren caught onto the one word, “When was this?!”

Chrom stared deadpanned, “It was years ago—anyways—”

“I want to hear that story soon enough.” The light banter brought some life back to Soren’s face, his tired expression decreasing. Even Chrom seemed a bit relieved, having exaggeratedly roll his eyes.

“In the end, someone like you can understand them better. You weren’t raise with expectations or discrimination against race or status. It’s why I put so much trust in you because I know you’re a genuine person through and through. You give no reasons to be because without a past holding you back, you can truly be who you are now.” Chrom glanced at Soren, smiling, “Soren, the greatest tactician and friend I’ve ever known.”  

It took a moment for Chrom’s heartfelt words to sink in, “I never saw it that way…my memories disappearing to be a good sign.”

“I don’t want to say it is…but…I think it’s helped solidify a lot of relationships that would’ve been harder to accomplish without being able to personally connect with them.” Chrom regarded., “Whoever you were, it doesn’t matter. You’ll always be our friend here, Soren.”

A flickering static erupted by the flames and Soren tore his gaze hastily, afraid to look. He exhaled gently, his lips quirking.

“I still wonder……about that man, the hierophant from earlier.” Soren admitted.

“Reon, right?”

“Yeah, something seemed…” _Unnatural, disturbing, wrong,_ “…strange about him. “

“Soren, no matter what happens…” Chrom admitted, “You’ll always have my trust.”

Soren didn’t say much, instead, looking tiredly to the side. It was hard speaking with Chrom…but his words reassured him deep down. It was good….to know his friend would be by his side. Soren caught his gaze lifting hesitantly upwards, and immediately he caught sight of the fading shadow, merging with the shadowed grounds below. Something dwelled at the pit of his stomach. It was unsettling, and sweat traced down his forehead. His spine felt stiff and his shoulders ached. His shoulders slouched slightly, averting his one-track mind to the fire and let out a sigh.

“Thank you, Chrom.” They both stared to the crackling flames, embers sparking and drifting into the night sky, twinkling and flickering out to mix and mingle with the stars above. Their conversation would end there, and Chrom accompanied Soren for the remainder of his watch before Sully and Gaius were next on rounds. Chrom even offered to walk with him to his tent, though Soren midway insisted he head to his own, knowing it was close by.  

“Soren,” Chrom sounded tired, squeezing his shoulder once more, “Please sleep. I’m asking as your friend, not a king.”

“I will, we have a lot ahead of us.” Soren promised, and Chrom could barely offer a smile, now looking much older.

 “Yes, we do.” 

 

 *****************************

 

_Flames licked and danced, scattering across the remains of a small village. A castle burned in the distance, civilians bolting away with terror filling their lungs and eyes. Soren crossed the dreamscape, passing the armies that clashed against one another. Plegian mages had taken arm at the cities gates, battered and their blood soaked the cement streets. Ylissean soldiers battled and tore through several of the mages’s defenses. Countless bodies had collected on the streets, wails filling the ashen atmosphere. He blinked slowly when he found himself moving down the street, finding the smog swirling and expanding around his path. The smog exploded and swallowed him whole, but after a moment of raising his arm up, the ash and dust parted way, sliding to the sides and above._

_Darkness bounded and tugged at his feet, sliding on air when he pursued forward. Minutes passed dully before a world began to construct around him. Darkness dripped and flowed, revealing granite walls underneath the moving mass. A long, vibrant carpet unfurled and roll forward through the darkness and causing it to spread to the walls and towards the ceiling, finally disappearing into mere shadows. Torches alit down the newly formed hallway, sparking and leading to what seemed to be a very long one at that. Soren’s lips tightened, hesitant to pursue down the hallway till he caught sight of the darkness dripping from the ceiling. It dropped to the floor, airy and dense till two beings shot out, children laughing._

_“One, two—ready or not!”_

_The shadows morphed to young children, a boy and a girl. He couldn’t make out what they looked like exactly, they took off running to even ignore the sound of an older woman echoing in the hall, “Careful dears, you’ll trip if you run that fast!”_

_Soren watched before catching the sight of the young boy, his chubby fingers locking around the corner of the hallway, as if expected Soren to pursue. He quirked his lips, but relented, choosing to walk after the child when the child giggled mirthfully._

_“Haha! You gotta keep up!” The child challenged and bolted._

_It was brief run, but Soren took the moment to charge after him, his steps echoing in the eerie silence. The hallways seemed to shift underneath and warp, Soren catching himself when the entire hallway shirted 180 degrees. His boots skidded and slid to the new surface, avoiding the gravity defying chandeliers and pursued the child that continued to run on the floor below, joined now by the young girl that held him by his hand and tugged in her run._

_Catch me if you can!_

_You’re going to have to try harder than that!_

_The teases were relentless—but the boy’s giggles were infectious, the young girl following in suite. The halls shifted and morphed and Soren was better prepared this time, following in pursuit of the moving walls to land on the vermillion carpeting, halting when the children rounded the next corner, whispering and wondering if they managed to get away. Soren panted, his hand gripping upon the corner of the hallway and peered over seeing the children kneeling in a long hallway that was filled with paintings—kings of yore and families that belonged to them. Soren glanced and scanned the regal faces that decorated the hallway, slowly overhearing the children’s conversation._

_“You think your dad haunts this place?” They held small wooden dolls in their hands,_

_“I hope so—that means he’s watching over me…and you too squirt,” She bopped her doll against his nose, the young boy rubbing it and making a face at her. The girl ruffled his hair so affectionally, he was taken off guard when a eteral spirit had phased through the tactician, clearly preoccupied with the presence of the younglings. He briefly patted against his chest_

_“Children, what are you doing?”_

_The woman’s strawberry curls bounced and curved along her neck when she knelt beside the playing children, her skirt pooling and forming the bed of pansies he recalled seeing once before. It was the oldest girl that spoke up first, claiming quite boldly they were avoiding responsibilities. Though these were visions, Soren couldn’t help but smirk at her attitude. The woman’s pink lips straightening to sigh, “Come along…before your father finds out you’ve been skipping lessons.”_

_“They’re so boring though....” the small boy fought, “The tutors always gaze at me strangely. Like they expect more out of me….” He sounded so small, almost scared by the way his hands knitted and tightened clutches of his pants in his small fist. Their mother seemed to have noticed, her face crestfallen and unsure on what to do. After a moment in silence, she looked to the small boy again._

_“……I know, love. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” She held a tender hand to his cheek, offering a warming smile, “…promise you’ll be patient.”_

_“Yes, momma.” She gave them kisses on their cheeks. However, the children vanished from her waning reach, her fingers curling to her chest while she knelt on the floor.  It was like how she had left Soren the first time, kneeling in the bed of flowers, the words echoing in his head. The greatest curse of all._

_“…It’s here…” The woman regarded, “If you look close enough…it’s here, Soren.”  Soren turned to the walls of paintings that lined in front of him. He found her taking a moment to stand, turning to properly face him with her palms opened to him. Darkness flowed and morphed into an onyx orb, reflecting and glittering like it contained the entire universe within its darkness._

_“Find it—” She repeated intensely._

_Soren stared, mesmerized by the orbiting dots of light that flickered from the glare, twinkling like the stars. Yet something reflected—a face—grinning. Someone was watching them. Soren backed away and found the woman twisting away, hurling the stone towards a frame. He couldn’t tell which one, she was grabbing his arm and hurrying him down the twisting corridors. It wasn’t long when he felt something sharp against his wrist, her hand flinging off like fire struck her. He tripped, hastily picking himself up to look behind, the woman sprawled on her knees, her skirt pooling beside her legs, exposing tattoos that matched the ones on Soren’s back. He reached to assist her but something prevented him. A glass barrier held him back, his hands flatting against the surface and struggled to fracture it._

_Soren looked past the woman and froze, the mysterious figure standing at the end of the hall. No longer afraid, he flicked the hood off, the red curls spilling out. It was Reon—gods—what was he going to do. Soren wasted no time digging his hands into his pockets, desperately searching for a tome—anything to break the barrier. Coming empty handed, he slammed his fists against the shield, surprised to find the woman pressing her hands on the glass. She shook her head, mouthing. No sound came, but Soren understood. The closer Reon drew, the intense feeling of death began sinking into Soren’s soul. He had no choice._

_Run_

_Run_

_Run Soren!_

_Soren listened to the woman’s silent pleas—bolting down the hall without glancing back—ignoring when he finally heard something shatter and a woman’s scream pierce the air into a deadly silence._

**_Do you really think you can keep running from me forever?_ **

****

**_Silly child._ **

****

**_We’ll see how long this game goes then._ **


	24. Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My god this chapter is late. 
> 
> Life hit me harder than I expected, not much really to explain. Hopefully I'll get back on my schedule if work complies with me. In the meantime I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!!
> 
> We're getting down to the nitty-gritty now. Bwahahahaha. 
> 
> Until next time kids, Road~

_Run—_

_Run_

_Run Soren!_

 

Soren bolted upwards, panting, hands scavenging the surface of his surroundings. He had expected to feel the rough texture of a carpet but instead, the shudders of his shoulders dwindled when he felt the soft material of a mat below him. The tactician thoughts morphed from fight to flight, the fractures of the nightmare present and raw. Soren rubbed the inside of his wrist, his vein throbbing violently. The woman in his dream—Reon. Everything had to be connected, it had to be. But how—how?

Wait.

Soren continued to sit up, allowing the panic to surge and dimish away. It was becoming a routine for the fractious dreams to surge through his slumbers. With body still shaking, he would succumb himself to plunging his thoughts onto his purposely placed books near his bedside. The countless amounts of books had grown because this was the only way he had learned to manage his night terrors. He had learned to read in the bare glow of the moonlight from within the flabs of his tent, his eyes having easily adjusted to the darkness of the night. His eyes darted across the passage, hoping to settle the wildly thumping heart in his rib cage. He thought it’d pop open at this rate from how hard it beat.

But it didn’t. It didn’t stop beating.

Growing uncomfortable, he closed the hard-covered novel and settled it to the side of his bed. Blinking wildly, he found himself leaning forward and stumbling upright. It seemed well past midnight with the rest of the Shepherds having withdrawn to their tents for the evening, slumbering away. Vaike’s obnoxious snoring rang from a few tents down, those around clearly set for a painful night. Soren’s hand gripped tightly on the flap of his tent, scanning the cleared walkways. Carefully, he stepped across the campgrounds, ever observant of where he walked. He avoided walking past Chrom, Frederick or Sully’s tents, knowing they would be able to easily to detect his footstep. Soren painfully reminded himself of the consequences the last time Lissa had tugged him out one night during the Plegian war to get snacks, the looks on Frederick and Chrom’s face was unforgivable despite Lissa’s mouth full of cookies.

Baring the thought in mind, Soren carefully made it through the remaining rows of the tents, his eyes settling towards the dark depths of the woods on the other side. He made it far enough to reach the outer edge of the camp grounds, glancing around for any sign of movement. He did. Soren crouched down against a tent, watching as a flame of light carried closer towards him; Lon’qu held a lantern, and was making his rounds guarding the camp. Knowing he was an adversary to reckon with against the curfew, Soren was sure that Lon’qu would stop him from trying to leave the campgrounds without company.

Soren hesitated to move—it was either to get caught or to be interrogated on why he was attempting to head out to the woods. Regardless of how close he was to Chrom; they were on Plegian grounds, it would be considered traitorous to even make the attempt. Soren stayed frozen in place, unable to determine whether it was the pounding of his heart or Lon’qu’s steps growing closer. Then—he stopped, another pair of steps joining towards the stoic soldier.

“Say, Lon’qu?”

“What?” Lon’qu turned away, Soren’s shoulders relaxing. Cherche was on guard with him…and it seemed to make the other man uncomfortable. Then again, Lon’qu is always uncomfortable around women, he just got used Lissa teasing and hanging around him after his guard duties. Now a new woman in the Shepherds was approaching him—this might be the distraction Soren needed.

“This might be a strange question, but...did you grow up in the slums? Living in the streets?” Cherche seemed to distract Lon’qu enough that Soren began formulating a plan to make a run for it.

There was hesitation in Lon’qu’s voice, “I have no idea what you're talking about.

“Oh. Then it must have been a different Lon'qu.” Cherche hummed easily when Lon’qu agreed, her glance steady, “But you did know a young girl called Ke'ri, didn't you?”

Soren froze before he could hop across the dirt path, “Where did you hear that name?!”

“Ah ha!” Cherche had taken a step in the direction of where Soren was perching, causing the tactician to reel back slightly from her line of view, “It was you that they told me about!”

“Who is they? What is the meaning of all this?!”

“I met Ke'ri's parents. A while back, when I was in Regna Ferox with Minerva. I saved them from a pack of bandits outside the town. They told me that their daughter had been killed by the very same outlaws. Later I heard a young boy named Lon'qu was with her at the time and that he fought like a demon in a vain attempt to protect her. Naturally, when I was introduced to you, I started thinking—"

“I fought, yes.” He interrupted abruptly, “But in the end, it was she who died protecting me. Her mother and father hated me. They blamed me for her death. I was a homeless boy from the slums, and I stole their only daughter.” There was a steel sharper in his tone than his blade could ever hone.

“Actually, about that—" Cherche was unable to stop Lon’qu’s expression from souring, Soren having experienced it only twice before. Witnessing Tharja personally offering to erase his memories of a former life he had with a dear friend and to his own training with the soldier when Frederick couldn’t. Lon’qu’s wisdom with a sword was unmatchable—it was clear when he’d spare against Chrom—and knock the Falchion right out of his hands.

“Enough. I cannot bear to speak of it!” Lon’qu interrupted Cherche, his foot digging in the opposite direction, “I would like to be alone now.” He fully turned away and hastily moved away from Cherche, Soren leaning forward slightly to see the distance he put between himself and Cherche. He didn’t expect the gossip but…yikes.

 “Wait, Lon'qu!”

Soren didn’t hesitate this time before hurrying across the path, Cherche’s stance still from Lon’qu retreating. Soren drove past the bundles of trees, using the overlay of the forest and shadows to hide his presence. Trekking his way over boulders buried within a river, he made distance from the campground with every step he took. He didn’t know why but it was relieving to hike through the woods. The glow of the campfire dimmed the further he traveled, casting his attention back twice.

Soren’s treading soon stopped, his sauntering thoughts slowing and taking in the new vicinity he was in. An open meadow, much like the one Chrom had found him on those many years ago.

Soren sat down, stretching his legs out along the grass, his fingers briefly running along the blades. A creek was nearby, the running water thunderous in his ears. Everything felt too clear, he heard too much; from the birds chirped and nestled within their branches to the creatures of the night slumbering. Drawing his attention away, he took to taking in the fresh air, exhaling slightly. It was crisp and settled his heated head. Soren gazed towards a patch of flowers that grew along his side, a bed of pansies. Under the soft glow of the moonlight above, the pansies illuminated in soft hues of purple and blues. The flowers gleamed in comparison to the ones from his dreams, the others covered with signs of loss and grievance. Soren stroked the petals, lulling his eyes closed, exhaling carefully. His thoughts drew to Chrom’s advice from earlier, eyes flickering gently. He should’ve kept sleeping….but with the world gazing towards him….wondering….watching. A reevaluation of his life trickled into thought.

With no memories to his name…it really shouldn’t deter him. He was a free man with no chains holding him down. No past or former burdens clinging to him like weights. It was relieving to make amends with that aspect of his already busy life. His eyes flickered slowly, sighing, wishing it was as easy as such. Strange, how the moment he had made amends from his lack of memories of his former life—did they start to reveal themselves. And how horrible they were.

The thoughts of Reon….the woman from his nightmares….

It was jumbling and frustrating, uneven pieces that clashed to fit together. He had once sat in the landscape of his unclear mind, attempting to rejoin what he could, to try and rebuild the former life he might have once lived. Though, from the Plegian war, it left him standing there, pieces in hand but unable to put them forward. He felt ashamed of who he might be. No longer in control, the pieces were slipping from his hand, fixing themselves into the places of the puzzle he refused to continue. Whether he liked it or not, something was unearthing itself from the pit of his forgotten memories.

Soren sat in the tranquil silence, unable to detect how long time had passed while he rested there. His eyes would flicker and close, but his mind was too active. It replayed memories from long ago, accidents he had made during the few beginning months after joining the Shepherds. Developing the system to understand everyone’s weakness and strengths to pair them accordingly in teams. He sat with them at dinner and during training, he pushed himself to grow be considered an equal.  The long nights when he had made a mistake in his tactics that had brought injuries to his teammates. Those evening he wouldn’t sleep because he was studying to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. He wanted to belong…he had to protect those closest to him…

“It’s not use. I can’t sleep…” Soren pressed his hands to his cheeks, his eyes burning, “…What does this all mean…?” He tiredly gazed towards the sky above, seeing each star glimmer in the dark blanket.

“Reon, who are you?” Soren questioned, “How do you know me…and what are you?”

When the forces of nature only responded with the rustling of tree branches did Soren sigh, moving onto his feet. He thought better to have wasted his time in his tent then in the open that was the forest. Dusting his arms off, he began to make his way towards the edge of the open field.

               

_Aren’t you curious…._

 

Soren halted, turning around to the empty field, unable to detect if someone was hiding amongst the shadows of the trees. Static built in place of the silence, his body tensing.

 

_Soren?_

 

A pressure built at his temple, making the latter wince and groan softly. A soft buzz rang in his ears, slowly sharpening to a loud whistle. Soren’s entire skull throbbed, fingers digging into his hair as he fell upon his knees. The ringing only increased in intensity, his sight distorting in blurry fogs, the colors of the pansies merging into a puddle of colors. Within his blurred range, Soren caught something heading directly towards him. Staggering to collect himself onto his knees, he had a terrible feeling that he was dreaming again. Afraid that Reon was deteriorating his mind into a hellish reality. The closer the figure drew, the sharper the outline of his body formed. No longer a blur, but a tall standing figure—and Soren had only wished it was Reon. 

 “Why do you close your heart to him, Soren?” Validar’s voice dulled the ringing, standing above the tactician as a hologramized shadow, flickering to hold his place, “Have you truly forgotten? I thought our first meeting would have been suffice….”

Soren exhaled shakily, his eyes watering from the pain that was building up at his temple, hunching his head over in pain. It was nails tearing at the walls of his mind, aching and demanding entrance, demanding submission. Soren gasped painfully, his fingers digging and tearing into the soil below him, a strange sensation bubbling in his throat, “V-Validar…” A glare rose to meet Validar’s dark grin, “S-So you are the assassin from that n-night.”

The answer was well met when the Plegian King offered a chortle, a vicious snarl escaping Soren in response when he reached for his tome. Instead, he was met with a furious, piercing noise that sent the tactician curling into his own body, the book falling out of his grasp. The sounds intensified and distorted in various wails and screeches. His sight rattled, regardless of how he clamped his hands to hold his head together, a bellow escaping, “Get out of my mind!”

“Heh heh. Such arrogance!” Validar scoffed at his futile attempt, “You dare take such a tone with your own father?!” For a moment, the aching in his head halted and the world stilled. His own breathing seemed to be the source of the throbbing his head, nausea beginning to unroll. Blood rushed in his ears, and it felt like the world threatened to crumble if Soren dared move. His skull was splitting from the pressure, and Soren somehow willed himself to get on his knees. Echoes from that night at the Ylissean Palace rang, when the assassins plunged into the heart of the Ylissean court. When Marth dove and saved Chrom from an attempted murder—and how Stahl had pierced through the throat of the man standing above him.

“...You’re lying…” Soren lifted his gaze, his eyes enflamed in rage, “Do not deceive me with your filthy lies!” 

Validar couldn’t contain his amusement at his retort, curling a hand over his lips to laugh, “Oh, but I am not lying, and you know I’m not.” His grin seemed to take a new form of malicious delight, “You are of my flesh, but your blood is sacred. You are to serve a glorious purpose! Retake what had been stolen from you.” Validar’s arms lowered to his sides, extending outwards, “Search deep in your heart. You already know it is your destiny...”

Forced images entered his mind, streets littered with fire and blood. Risen prowled and reined in control, humans pushed to the scarce corners of the world. The spell of thunder that cloaked his hand and pierced into the heart of his friend, recalling painfully of how Chrom staggered and fell to the floor, lifeless. How the others would fall in his dream—Lissa, Miriel, Virion, Stahl, Gaius, Sully, Tharja—there was no one within the Shepherds that was spared of the violence. Of the death and pain, Soren had seen these horrid images before. They would plague him during nights of the Plegian war, even after in the confinement of his room with the Ylissean Palace. Peace was an illusionary gift that Soren had hoped to cling to. It seemed—there was more to it.

“No, get—get out.” His body trembled and shook, Soren unable to pull away from the imagery. His eyes shut painfully, desperately gasping for each draw of breath. His fingers clung to the grass, searching, scavenging, until it hit the hard cover of his tome. Relief flooded him briefly, his focus bleary upon the yellow covering. The pain doubled over, the apparition of a gigantean, winged beast descending upon him, “GET OUT OF MY MIND!”

“Why do you resist?” Validar demanded, coming over to Soren’s curled state, “After what the Ylissean has done to you, our family. Your rightful place is at my side. Not wasting your time with these doomed servants of Naga!”

An unpleasant sneer settled on Validar’s face upon mention of the Shepherds, “You were born with a purpose, Soren. To be one with Grima! Let me join your power to the fell dragon!” Claws dug and tore against the shield in his mind, scrapping and eagerly demanding entrance. A painful whine escaped from Soren’s lips, crossing the line when he finally pulled what strength he had left. The tome snapped open in front of him, the pages bolting open to generate sparks of electricity at every turn. The nonsensical racket died and took favor to listening to the popping and whirling of the magic in front of him. Soren’s focus sharpened and took the tome back to his possession, bolding standing up.

“I said no!” Soren affirmatively repeated, “I said no, whatever you’re planning, I will not be a part of it.”

Validar watched his actions with a disgruntle glare, his illusion cracking and skittering. Soren didn’t break from his formation, the seal shining at the base of his feet. How long would he be able to keep up the spell before his concentration would break? Within minutes he could easily fall mercy to Validar’s control again. The tactician bit at the inside of his mouth, directing his attention upon the pain to keep his focus asserted.

“You do not get a choice, Soren,” Validar stated, “You are destined for a greater design.”

“Well, it seems I’ll be disappointing you then.” Soren susurrated.

Over the clamor and sparks from the seal below him, a new sound was forcing its way to Soren’s attention. It grew audible, Soren briefly casted attention towards the side, his ears picking up the voice that called hastily out to him. Chrom—Chrom was looking for him. Validar seemed to have caught notice as well, a detestable scowl replacing his grin.

“Pah! Not this one again, no matter, ” Validar’s gaze followed back to Soren, his scoff gaining Soren’s concentration again, “In time, you will see the truth. And that is all it will be—” The magic that was holding Validar began to fizzle and shatter, his feet disappearing first before traveling towards the center of his body. Validar held a strong, powerful smirk before fading away, “A matter of time.”

The Arcthunder spell spattered and died in Soren’s hands, the tactician barely able to hold himself up. He fell on his knees, gripping the crisped grass under his feet. His hair pooled over his shoulder, shielding away any initial look upon his face. Soren needed the seconds to be able to recover himself. The sharp whistling no longer held his mind victim, instead, the silence now lulling him. A ring of darkness consumed his vision and he was tempted to fall victim to the pulling they offered of collapse. His body slipped and fell against his side, exhaling heavily as the ring of darkness grew darker and darker.

“Soren, what happened?! I heard shouting!” Chrom hands were jerking the darkness away, heaving up the tactician to his rear and keeping him up right. Soren had jolted in his grasp, nearly stumbling once more onto his side unless for Chrom’s quick movement, voicing reassurance to the tactician that he was a friend. Soren gripped his forehead, seething from the pain that he had recently endured, taking sharp inhales and exhales to relax himself.

“I’m fine,” Soren wiped his mouth, his brain cracking and writhing in pain.

Chrom stared incredously, teeth clenching, “Fine?! You do not look /fine/, what happened?!” He gripped his shoulder tightly, holding Soren in place. Soren tensed under the pressure, but after such a long night, he didn’t have the means to keep fighting. His shoulders dropped, wearily glancing to his extended legs, mentally drained.  

“Validar—he was here, he spoke to me,” Soren answered, exhausted, “He said…I was his son.” Nearly saying that made Soren gag and Chrom’s reflex was all too quick, nearly ready to hoist his friend from the ground. It hit him worse than the arrow that pierced his back during the war, he had almost wished that the arrow had finished the job right then and there. Soren gritted his teeth excruciatingly, hugging his knees closer to his body while Chrom sat closely, watching Soren’s movements carefully.

“Is it true, Soren? Are you sure—Validar could have easily been lying to you.” Chrom reasoned. Soren didn’t meet his gaze, reaching to rub his kneecap tenderly.

“I don’t know Chrom, this all seems so wrong—I don’t know if it’s a charade meant to trick me but gods, nothing sits well with me right now…” Soren rubbed his face, groaning. Chrom nodded slowly, but his eyes seemed to grow distant, as if recalling a distant memory.

“Oh, gods,” Chrom looked in pain for a moment, “That hierophant doppelganger, could he be the king’s son as well? Brothers? Perhaps you are twins?” Chrom looked to Soren but the tactician was lost at how to answer, looking away again.

“I’m not sure. I can’t remember, Chrom,” Soren uttered harshly, “Something didn’t sit well with me, there’s something wrong. If I were to be honest, it would explain so much but I’m afraid to ask now. God damn it.” Soren’s fingers curled into the dirt, “I’m scared to know Chrom—this seems to have a greater scheme that outlives our time. I…I don’t want to pull either you or the Shepherds into—”

Chrom’s was having none of it, and held his shoulders reassuringly, “You are yourself before you are any man’s son. Remember that, blood does not run thicker than the ties you have forged.”

Soren stared at him, scoffing lightly and slumped his head against his shoulder.

“Can you walk?” Chrom had let him go and Soren struggled to even get upon his knees. He fell on his side, groaning at the weakness he was experiencing.

“Give me a moment, my head is just threatening to crack open onto the ground any second now.” Soren grimaced, pressing his forehead against the ground to withhold his pumping organ inside. The tense moment passed under Chrom’s rigorous watch, entrusting that the coast was clear when Soren was finally able to get upon his feet. They didn’t make it far when the trees rustled and broke way, hooves stampeding. Chrom held a hand wearily towards Soren’s direction, but lowered it when the rider cleared through the dense forest. Frederick heaved at the reins, swinging his legs over the side and hurried over to the concerned King. Frederick wouldn’t have come unless it was important. By the looks of ash and scratches upon the armor he had polished earlier that day—it was serious.

“Milord, we are under attack! Risen have encircled the camp!” Frederick urgently informed.

“What?!” Chrom snapped, a stagger in his stance, “But…we posted sentries! How did this happen?!”

Despite the wandering Shepherds on ground, it seemed they managed to sneak their way in. Not entirely successful but to have coordinated themselves to follow the patrol routes—unless they were watching. Soren’s eyes widen briefly, unable to flesh out the possibilities they were watching the entire time. To have watched him leave the camp, waiting for a moment to strike. No, it seemed to advance for the Risen to be capable of.

“They made a stealthy approach, milord. I've never seen Risen behave like this. Either they are learning our ways, or someone is commanding them...” Frederick was in line with Soren’s thoughts, the tactician rubbing his jaw tensely. All he could think of was the crooked, heinous grin that lingered upon the Plegian King’s lips. Chrom’s gaze slid over to Soren, telepathically linking to his own thoughts.

“It’s Validar, this is his doing—this can’t be a coincidence.” Chrom reasoned, his hands curling into fists.

“It was a set up,” Soren jeered, “A well-organized set up.”

“What are your orders?” Frederick looked at the ready, urgency at it’s finest.

“Equip anyone who can bear arms, and tell them we fight for our lives!” Chrom commanded.

*****************************

“Men, at the ready!”

Frederick’s voice boomed over the stampede of soldier’s clamoring across the campgrounds. Explosions and runes lit the dark surroundings in orange and white flashes. Soren sprinted by Chrom’s side, the two prepared for when the first of the Risen’s came into view. Before they even turned, Chrom had leapt forward with a powerful swing, taking down two. The others weren’t given the time to react as Soren blasted them in a blistering inferno. Chrom led them through the chaos of the foot soldiers and various Shepherds dueling it out in the open plains. From the corner of his eyes, Soren caught Vaike’s vicious slashes knocking away several of the Risens that surrounded him, Miriel and Maribelle offering their assistance from behind. Lon’qu and Cherche seemed to have been the first responders, clearing another sector of Risens efficiently, despite their conversation from earlier. It relieved Soren to see that everyone was mildly prepared for the worst, despite the attack having happened so suddenly.

“Lissa! Where’s my sister?” Chrom shouted in the midst of the fighting.

“Si-Sir, your highness—” Donnel’s voice rung out catching Soren’s attention, the tactician grabbing his friend by his shoulder, “Your sister—I mean—Miss Lissa!”

“I’m here Chrom!” Lissa fired her arm out, a small burst of flames catching at the feet of a Risen that charged towards Donnel. Not taken out by the weakness of her spell, it was Donnel that charged out from the cover of the smoke, an axe raised highly over his head to finish off the monster. The two teenagers offered a small grin to each other, turning when Chrom sighed loudly in relief, running over to her.

“Are you all right?” Chrom squeezed her shoulders, checking for any visible injuries. Lissa, pouting at the extra attention, clapped her hands over his, shimming them off.

“Yeah, Donnel and I have this covered!” Lissa reassured proudly, “Stahl is looking for you though! He has an idea where they all came from!”

“All right, we’ll find him,” Chrom’s lips quirked hesitantly, “Have you seen Olivia, Lissa?”  Lissa smirked slightly and merely gesturing upwards. Beats of wings flapping powerfully above averted their attention towards the moonlight sky. Three pegasus gave support from above, Sumia and Cordelia working in flawless unison to strike their foes. Soren hadn’t seen Olivia in action, but the woman drove fearlessly into battle, her lance swinging and piercing into the chest of a Risen. Catching a glance to the side, Soren couldn’t help but catch Chrom sighing in relief.

“Soren!” Lissa’s voice snapped the tactician into some sense, the young man spinning in time to avoid the sword that drove to his direction. A seal released underneath her feet as she threw her hands out, the Risen catching fire and stumbling to the ground, Donnel making quick work of finishing it off.

“I owe you one Lissa,” Soren rubbed the back of his neck, Lissa smiling widely and closed her tome shut.

“Then trust me when I offer you a gift next time around!” Lissa teased. Soren almost regretted being saved at that moment. He would rather handle a Risen than a frog bursting from a box.

Chrom clapped a hand to his shoulder, gesturing his head to the side. At the signal, Soren nodded in agreement and followed after Chrom through the battlefield. Risen knights charged towards the duo, weapons extended and Chrom raised his sword. Chrom blocked a heavy strike from the knights, gritting his teeth every time they would charge and strike. Soren blocked the second round, this time providing Chrom the opening he needed to leap up and cut across a knight’s chest. Soren pulled his tome, holding his hand outwards with sparks swirling and spiraling around his feet.

“Elthunder!” Soren called forth.

Bolts of electricity formed and shot towards the other knight, watching the knight drop to the floor, blotches of darkness expelling out. Chrom didn’t hesitate when he rushed passed, driving further into the outland of the canyons. They were cornered from the start of this battle and it seemed they were getting forced to the wall at this rate. Soren clicked his teeth in annoyance, reminding himself to carry more than two tomes on him from now on. It was vicious between the Ylissean forces and the well-placed Risens. However, strength still carried them through and the Ylissean army was securing the campgrounds in the meantime. Ash and sparks escaped into the muggy night, the ponderous clangs of weapons drifting. The duo had found themselves along a canyon edge, Stahl waiting patiently while soothing his horse, tugging at her reins to draw her away from the Risen that lurked.

“Stahl!” Soren called out, earning his friend’s attention, relief flooding. His armor was nicked with dents, having probably seen his fair share of battles this evening. Stahl offered a brief wave to the King and tactician, leaning briefly against his horse for support, “It’s a relief to see you’re okay.”

“Likewise, the Risen came so quickly, I hadn’t even gotten the chance to finish my midnight snack,” Stahl relented, sighing softly with a roll of his head. Soren rolled his eyes, having used to Stahl’s food antics but smiled softly nonetheless. It quickly went away in favor of getting to the bottom of this situation.

“Stahl, we heard you had information for us.” Soren said, Stahl’s expression lighting up immediately. He pulled away from his horse a few steps ahead, his hand gesturing forward.

“If you follow between the divided hills, there’s a bridge that has this strange Risen on top of it.” Stahl informed, “But if you see him he’s just been standing there. I know we had our runs with the Risen for a while now—but I haven’t see a Risen act like that.” Following Stahl’s information, there indeed stood a weathered bridge stood against the testament of time. Standing upon it was an erect Risen, poised and overlooking the situation below. It seemed to be observing the battle, it’s arm exposing out towards the left divide of the canyon. The Risens that waited on the side took a stance and began to make their way down the slope, ready to engage in battle with the Shepherds once more.

“That’s strange…” Soren murmured, “It must be a spell upon the leader of these Risen to have such control.”

“If we sever the spell, then that must be the way we could stop more Risen from showing up.” Chrom deduced, Soren nodding slowly to his logic.

“It could work….it’s just a matter of cutting through and reaching him.”

“Oh, that….” Stahl gestured towards the right divide, Soren’s attention rising towards the top of the hill, noticing the lack of Risen that should’ve been waiting for a signal to move, “You might not have to worry about it all too much. There’s….this really weird guy that’s actually been waiting to meet one of you two.”

“Meet……us?” Soren held a perplexed expression, “Did he come alone?”

“No, and that’s the weirder thing!” Stahl said, “He came with Marth!”

‘Marth.’

At the sound of her name, something finally clicked in his head. The gears started churning and working as normal and the dulling pain of his headache seemed of a distant past. Soren scratched his neck, sharing a glance with Chrom who seemed equally as confused.

“If Marth is here, then there’s a good chance she’s already a step ahead of us.” Chrom regarded, his eyes narrowing, “We should give her whatever assistance we can.”

“You’re right,” Soren nodded, “I’ll go on ahead to see who wants to meet us. Chrom, Stahl, you two take the other divide of the canyon. We’re going to block this Risen from being able to escape.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Chrom smiled, nodding, “Stahl, whenever you’re ready.”

“After you, your Majesty.” Stahl grabbed and hoisted himself onto the saddle of his horse, extending a hand out to allow Chrom onto the horse. The King properly adjusted himself behind the knight and held tight to the saddle below him. Before they debated, Chrom briefly waved to Stahl to hold on.

“Soren, be careful all right?” Chrom reminded with a weary glance to the tactician. Soren acknowledged his concerns, especially after finding him out in the middle of the woods by himself, he was probably going to have someone sleeping in his room at this rate.

“I will, you have nothing to worry about.” Soren reassured him.

At the sound of how confident he sounded, Chrom finally relented and Stahl took it as a signal to pursue ahead of their objective, their weapons withdrawn for the potential encounters. Not a moment later did Soren move out towards the source of the strange magic expelling outwards. Dark tendrils grew higher in height the closer Soren got, growing concerned if the person was getting outnumbered. When he got to the top of the hill, he was met with numerous Risen bodies, crows pecking at the disintegrating bodies. Soren gazed around until he found a flock huddled near a—teen?

He had silver locks parted neatly to the right, his pale complexion brilliant as snow. Wearing a long-sleeved shirt, dark purple and greys of his dark mage garment he wore ringing familiar to the tactician. His onyx cape flowing along his back, his popped-out collar trimmed with gold linings mimicking the Eyes of Grima. Soren sucked in a breath, not for the fact that he single-handedly took whatever remaining Risens there were—it was because they had met before.

“You…” It was brief; the memory of surviving the flooded room, coughing hoarsely when the young man showed up, exclaiming sourly how he was disappointed he wasn’t a bandit. Soren stared at the growing smile upon his face, catching the unnatural way his skin turned, as if forcing every muscle in his cheeks to look genuine.

“Hey! Ain’t this looking like a lost caw—” A smirk played upon the ghostly hollows of his cheek bones, “What’s wrong? You’re CAW-strophobic??” A mirthful laugh sprung out from him, hugging his arms around his waist, giggling mischievously. It didn’t make it easier to handle when the Risen torn apart on the ground twitched, escaping into ash.

“Nya ha ha! Oh, I slay myself.” The dark mage leaned up on the rock formation, smirking widely, “Nice seeing you again Mr. Tact! I guess you just can’t caw for help, huh?” Soren felt the lid of his eye twitch at this dark mage’s antics, recalling his first meeting within the caverns in the mountains. It seemed that smile of his was used to the blood and horrors of war.

“How did you find me?” Soren pressed, raising a brow, “I heard you were looking for Chrom or I.”

“Oh! I followed that swordsman again—” The teen leaned fully back on the stone, gesturing towards the end of the canyon where the hills intertwined at the end, “She’s always leading me to something fun. I promised her I would help out in exchange for tagging along. Then I thought—since you’re the brains of the group, I thought I might ask to join the fun!” The boy swung his arms and flailed upwards, his cape flowing with the length of his arms. He almost looked like a crow, “I can be great for the CAWs.”

Soren wasn’t exactly sure if he felt comfortable allowing the dark mage into the group. Despite his persisting and overwhelming help in the past…..he couldn’t get past the fake smile and his crow puns.

“Err….You said Marth was last here?” Soren changed the subject, the teen sitting up properly.

“Yeah, I cleared a path for her. I think she said she’s getting rid of the zombie honcho.” The teen pouted exaggeratedly, “Leaving me with all the weaklings.”

“I’m sure….” Soren regarded, his grip upon his tome tightening, “Perhaps your skills would be of more use down the path, my comrades can use the much-needed assistance.”

“Uh huh….?” The boy leaned forward in anticipation, “Go on.”

Soren hesitated, “If you stop with the crow puns then I don’t see an argument against you joining, urm….?”

“Henry,” The boy hid behind his smile, and it didn’t help he had his eyes closed, “Oo! More of the zombies are back!”

“What?!” Soren hastily turned, scanning their surrounding with his tome opened wide. However, he was met with nothing but a hearty laugh from beside him. Soren’s expression soured and he faced the laughing teen, finding him wiping his eye from the tear that threatened to escape.

“Nya ha ha! Made you look—although they are right there,” Henry pointed in the opposite direction, a group morphing their way from the grounds. Soren hissed but Henry waved, “Leave them to me, I don’t want to have the fun spoiled for me.”

“……Have you always been this way?” Soren decided to ask, “Enjoying the spoils of war?”

“It’s not exactly the spoillllllls, I kind of have a thing for killing. All those who are funny have a weird connection with it,” He grinned brightly, “Ever talk to a jester when he’s off duty—those guys are some sick dastards!” He snapped his wrist forward, dark tendrils whipping forth from the tome he held to his hip, a spot Soren previously wasn’t attentive to. Two of the Risen fell instantly, the tendrils splurting and crushing their bodies within it’s grasp, “I don’t think so, nya ha!”

Soren shuddered over the sound, having now found a new direction to pursue, “I owe you one then!”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mr. Tact!” Henry bubbled another dark laugh when a crack radiated from the Risens he was disposing of. Thankfully having Henry on their side would certainly prove useful in later battles to come. Hopefully the Shepherds would get used to him.

Soren darted down the pathway, covering ground at a faster rate due to the lack of the Risens. He crossed the empty plains, raising his attention towards the slope that led up to the bridge. There he caught sight of the vermillion inner folds of Lucina’s cape, swinging wildly outwards when she engaged in combat.  Risens fell left and right if they intercepted her pursuit to reach the top. Marth was relentless in her act, no doubt for her persistent promise to safeguard over the Shepherds. Her shield acted in par with her direct strikes, a flowing motion of swordsman ship that Soren had only seen once before in Chrom. Marth parried and attacked, a sole monster on the battle field. Had she noticed when the risen mage broke from the pack, a seal glowing menacingly under the glow of his red eyes. The electricity that built in his hand wasn’t enough when Soren stumbled in view, his own tome alit crimson.

“Arcfire!” Flames exploded at the base of his feet, spiraling and whirling in a controlled direction. The Risen reaction was slow enough that it took the hit, flames and electricity spiraling into a small combustion. Soren hid his face behind his sleeves, inhaling sharply when he lowered it, relieved to see Marth merely brushed the smoke off from the front of her shield. Marth pressed her attention over to Soren, her shoulders slacking slightly down as he stepped over the charred remains of the Risen.

“Soren?” Marth was genuinely surprised, her sword lowering, “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Soren tilted his head and for a moment Marth scoffed lightly, pushing the frame of her bangs along her ears, “Though we could discuss that later. Judging by how you are here, I pray that a ship has remained here for us to board after this mess is dealt with.”

“There is. You must have some idea how difficult it is to charter a ship towards this island,” The young woman smiled, “They all think this island is cursed.”

“After this night, I would have to agree with them.” Soren rubbed his jaw, unable to help the small smile that formed at his lips. How odd that they kept running into each other…it was nice. It almost made him relax despite the tense situation afloat. Soren exhaled carefully, clearing his thoughts when meeting Marth’s glance, “I’m assuming you’re already heading to pursue this Risen commander?”

“I am, I judge that you’re here to aid me?” A hint of a tease lingered in her voice, Soren almost scoffing.

“Two is better than one. I think it’d do us best to stick together,” Soren joined at her side, Marth affirmed with a nod and took the lead to reach the top of the bridge. Soren covered Marth’s back with rigorous casting of his magic, Marth adjusting hastily to rid of the remaining Risens that survived his attack. Something felt different in their fighting now, it was smoother, precise. Soren was starting to memorize the way Marth would charge ahead with quick swipes before dodging back, taking the opportunity to fill in the blank space with an attack of his own. It was starting to work seamlessly—with more time and practice…maybe they could really learn to work together.

Soren pushed the thought aside, his attention returning to the heat of the battle after the glow of the rune below his feet died, the tome in his hand growing hot to hold. It was almost reaching the end of its life and he’d have to make precise decisions on when to use it. Soren exhaled, tugging his thunder tome in favor of preserving what he had left and casted his attention towards the other side of the canyon. He caught sight of Chrom and Stahl’s fluid movement across the battlefield. It was like clockwork to see how Stahl would block so rigorously and Chrom’s hasty rebuttal in countering from the ground. It seemed more Risens laid await on that side, but judging from how they were both reaching the top, it would only be a matter of time before they met up with each other.

“Soren! Don’t fall behind!” Soren recollected his focus and rushed after the warrior, the duo taking charge with slipping past several Risen knights, Soren snapping his fingers with a jolt of electricity following suit, the ends of his hair rising. Lightning exploded behind them and crackled in the remains of the Risen, Soren smirking and following up at the rear. The two finally reached the top, Soren catching sight of Chrom’s haste rush forward on the other side, his chest rising and falling. Stahl withdrew himself off his horse, standing behind Chrom with his sword at the ready. Both sides surrounded the Risen commander with the intent to battle. The Risen commander stood at the center of the bridge, a trident laced between its dark armor. It remained unflinching when confronted on both sides, Chrom and Stahl precautious in their stance to handle the isolated monster. Marth seemed to take the initiative, her sword proudly gripped and prepared to engage the Risen. A moment passed...and it didn’t react.

“Its…not attacking…” Stahl pointed out plainly, his brows furrowing together.

“The Risens aren’t like this…” Chrom regarded, ‘They’re mindless creatures…but this one…?”

Something seemed awfully familiar about this Risen. Soren couldn’t but his finger to it and gently lowered his cowl. That’s when the armor of the Risen cracked, slowly pulling its speared trident from the wood below. Marth and Soren drew their weapons when the Risen chose to face them, the red orbs cracking alive in a furious flame.

“You k-know….” The Risen croaked, “W-h-hat—cow-ward me-ans, right...” Soren froze, a voice from years pass unearthing himself from a watery prison, “Yli-ssean tactician?”

Soren’s eyes widen, “What?!”

“You—recognize this man?” Marth demanded, her attention directed to him.

“I do—it’s that Valmese Commander I had encountered in the mountains,” Soren exhaled, the memory of the skilled Commander Pyro, the walls cracking and spurting geysers to drown them both. Henry had narrowly saved Soren from the horrific fate. But it seemed—the Commander had no such luck, “He’s turned into a Risen?”

“Risens were human once—killed—possessed to serve a damned fate,” Marth hissed, her grip intense, “This is unusual still—he—he spoke. I’ve never met one that could speak.”

“I can imagine he hated me that much,” Soren drawled, “Even death couldn’t stop him from making a retort.” A bellowing, animalistic screech expelled from the Risen’s mouth, its movements hauntingly fast and charging closer to them. Marth and Soren parted ways, Marth engaging the feverous Risen in his bold strikes. Soren opened forth his tome, the pages magically flipping and enforcing the seal below his feet to come forth, his eyes narrowing.

“Arcthunder!” The creature and Marth dodge the explosion of lightning, Marth joining back to Soren’s side with baited breath. The two had no time to recover as the Risen was back at charging them again, insisting on pursuing Soren. The tactician was quick to dodge, careful in his footwork as he danced along the edge of the bridge. He exhaled sharply and rolled out the way, giving chance for Chrom to dart past him and swing his sword upwards, cutting off the Risen’s jab. The two locked in their stance, Chrom gritting his teeth painfully as he tried forcing his blade to knock the trident out of his possession. In an unpreceded move, the Risen was able to force Chrom back and nearly drove the man off the edge of the bridge.

“No!” Marth lunged from behind, her sword poised for striking the Risen directly from behind. The Risen was able to react hastily, able to swiftly push off from Chrom and block her attack. Unlike Chrom, Marth was far more vulnerable to his prowess as her feet began to slid across the wooden grain of the bridge.

“Marth duck!” His tome sparked wildly and a bolt of lightning expelled from him. Marth dove to the ground, shielding her head when the spell hit the Risen, the monster staggering in its step.  Chrom reached and assisted Marth up, the three that remained on the bridge joining towards the side that Stahl remained upon, watching carefully. For a moment, they thought he was going to expel into darkness when it merely twitched back into place. As if it didn’t even take damage.

Marth gritted her teeth, “He’s strong, he’s not an ordinary Risen.”

“Then all four of us will be able to handle him,” Chrom acknowledged from behind. However, Soren had other plans, the gears churning to formulate a plan. Scanning the bridge, it seemed to be held by layers of decaying beams, already alerting him to what would befall someone.

“Soren,” Chrom caught his fleeting gaze, raising a brow, “You have that look on your face.”

“What look?” Soren regarded.

“That look like you have a plan formulating,” Chrom responded with a grin, “Am I wrong?”

“…No.” Soren met him with the same grin.

“I don’t like the way they’re both grinning about this,” Marth chided.

Even Stahl sighed in agreement, leaning over with a hush whisper, “When he smiles like that, you have to know his plan is going to be a bit…auspicious.” 

The explanation of the plan was shortened to mere words when the four were interrupted by the charging Risen. Soren clapped at the back of Stahl’s shoulder and the two retreated to his horse, Marth and Chrom blocking and engaging the Risen. Soren offered a brief off of help with casting another spell of Arcthunder before Stahl snapped his reins

Electricity exploded forth but no longer bond by human flesh, the Risen was resilient in his actions and impassable in his strength. The former commander blocked Chrom’s charged attacked, redirecting the sparks of lightning that threatened to damage him. He could feel every strike and club battering against the blade, vaguely recalling their intense duel prior. Directing and a longing for a successful strike, Chrom ducked and swung at its calf, the sword digging and tearing at the decaying flesh bond together. For a moment he had thought that would have ended the fight—until the skin began morphing back in place. Chrom heaved back his weapon, flailing back when the Commander raised his trident and swung. Marth caught between the blades of the trident, gritting her teeth aggressively as they locked in combat. Parting and dancing along the thin length of the bridge, Marth stood boldly, combating against the Risen when Chrom swung from behind, offering a powerful assistance. The King was intense in his strikes, and while the Commander was dead, he still lacked in accuracy to his targets, unable to keep track of the two moving in unison. Chrom and Marth traded back and forth in their combat, a dance of steel and ash against the Risen. When one had grown tired, the other replaced and covered their back.

“Why are we heading down here, Soren?” Stahl pulled back at the reins of his horse, quietly offering her words of encouragement and brushing along her neck. Soren jumped off the side of the horse, heading forth towards the bottom of the canyon, the bottom of the bridge barely being held together. Soren ran his gloved hands along the wood, staggering back when the entire bridge moaned in response, shaking and waning from the pressure.

“Soren, one wrong move and this entire thing will collapse,” Stahl stared at Soren’s direction and pressed his lips together, “Soren, don’t you dare!”  

“He can absorb damage—we need something heavy to finish him off.” Soren replaced his Arcthunder with his Arcfire, his eyes settling at the base of the bridge. Darting his gaze around, he caught his attention being drawn upwards, catching sight of Marth and Chrom’s positions switching from defensive to offensive, both leaping into battle. They drew closer towards the edge and Soren held fast to his insane idea, knowing if they didn’t act soon then they would tire out.

“Stahl, go up and get them out of range!” Soren commanded, holding his hands towards the wood. Stahl didn’t waste a moment to retreat back to his horse, clicking his heel against her side in order to beat the tactician. Soren waited for a few moments before casting the spell. In a fiery blast, the wood at the base of the olden bridge ignited, cracking and growing in strength as it climbed upwards.  

“Chrom! Marth! Get off the bridge!” Stahl’s voice howled over the crackling of the cinders, Soren taking several steps back as he watched the scene unfold. Chrom easily ducked the swing of the Risen, cutting his arm off, his trident clattering to the bridge. At that chance Marth caught hold of his trident and stabbed it into the wooden boards below, the risen seizing the handle to grapple it out. With a limb missing and the trident pierced deeply into the wood, the Risen struggled to remove it. Chrom tugged at Marth’s arm, signaling for the retreat, the bridge suddenly moaning and struggling to support all the weight.

Chrom and Marth managed to escape from bridge while the Risen began to regain its strength. With a sudden rip of the of the trident, the ripple effect followed with the bridge. Soren didn’t waste time as he began rushing out of the way, creating distance from the crash site.  The entire entity moved in waves that trembled and collapsed downwards. Soren raised an arm up to shield away the plume of dust and ash that blew towards his direction. He exhaled sharply, gazing back over to the inferno that laid before him. His tome broke away into mere ashes and flames, having used the remaining of its power to conduct the bridge alit.

Soren wiped his face, sighing in relief that the danger was put to rest. The magical flames disappeared from the crackling bridge and Soren sat back, sighing when he gazed upwards, seeing the trio return towards where he sat.

“That should be the last of him,” Marth regarded, inspecting the heavy damage done to the Risen.

“It was a good execution of the plan, considering it was last second,” Soren chuckled, Stahl wearily glancing over to him.

“How about next time we try to avoid the collateral damage?” Stahl insisted, ruffling the top of Soren’s head, the tactician swatting his hand away playfully. Chrom and Marth seemed to smile over the act, the former turning to face Marth properly.

“I don’t know how to thank you for all the times you’ve come for our aid, Marth.” Chrom thanked, smiling. Marth curled a bang away from her face, a solemn expression overtaking the tranquil expression she held.

“It’s the least I can do to aid the Shepherds, after all—” Marth glanced briefly to Soren and for a moment, he wasn’t sure why she would look his way. Her gaze returned to Chrom, her shoulders tensing up and she continued, “I was hoping we could discuss working together.”

“Huh?” Chrom was the least to say surprised, but Soren was upright startled, nearly whirling around to face the duo properly. She raised her guard lightly, scratching at her cheek from the suggestion, noticing all attention was on her now. However, Chrom couldn’t help but smile, giving her shoulder a squeeze and nodded.

“We’d be more than happy to have you join us, Marth.” Chrom answered.  

Marth smiled softly at his response, Stahl clapping briefly in the background and Soren still kneeling, surprised…that she actually willingly joined. Chrom let go, scratching the back of his neck and it seemed his own curiosity piped, “What made you decide to want to join?”

“I had my doubts before…if I wanted to join,” Marth admitted, “But I think in the end…it’s better to be with a team then to be alone.”

Soren stared carefully, recalling her letter the cold morning he woke up in Regna Ferox to receive it. He hadn’t thought….she would actually. He felt his cheeks heat up slightly, rubbing it awkwardly as Chrom continued to discuss with how they would talk more about it once they’d return to the camp, Stahl insisting some advice that she should avoid Sully’s cooking if she’d wish to fight another day. Soren didn’t realize how far they were walking off until he was getting on his own feet, wiping his cloak of the dirt that built up on it.

_“Don’t you think it’s a bit reckless destroying an entire bridge?”_

Soren shivered and spun, the warped reality escaping beside him, the familiar coat sharpening for him to see. No longer did Reon hid behind his hood, but it still sent shivers down his spine when his urbeyes met his own. Reon smirked at his direction but kept walking forward, instead, gesturing his hand around in circles, _“I may a know a thing or two about tactics but this seemed down right unrefined.”_

“What this your doing? Do you have an agenda against me?” Soren whispered harshly, hesitating for a moment before continued in his questioning, “Are we related, Reon?”  

Reon paused in his saunter to the destroyed bridge, briefly glancing back to the tactician, _“Related? Bah, nice try, but wrong. Now for the agenda,”_ Reon leaned his arm against the wooden polls, head tilted towards the disabled Risen commander, the ash escaping from the pierced body parts.

 _“I came bearing a gift,”_ Reon regarded, settling himself away from the dead commander’s body, _“perhaps…you should learn the truth.”_

“What…?” Soren gritted his teeth, “What truth?!”

“ _Why don’t you ask your mysterious enigma,”_ Reon gazed towards him, a cocky smile lingering, _“Or better yet, why not we force her to reveal her secrets?”_ Reon’s existence skittered and faded, Soren unable to rush to him in time. He panted harshly, darting his attention around. Where did he go. He had to still be here. Soren’s eyes trailed around but clearly, he was losing his mind. He sighed roughly, resting his palm against his throbbing forehead, attempting to think clearly again.

“Soren?” A hand clasped on his shoulder, Soren’s bubbling mind grounded and focused upon Chrom appearing behind him, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah…” Soren rubbed his face, sighing tiredly, “It’s been a long night. I thought I saw some movement…I just wanted to double check”

“I agree it was a long night, but I rather you not turn into Soren the Cautious, taking after Frederick’s footsteps,” Chrom smiled teasingly and Soren’s shoulders relaxed. Chrom’s lips suddenly drew to a line when something rumbled at their sides. Soren and Chrom took a step back, looking back to see the pillars had suddenly tumbled over. Soren’s eyes narrowed while Chrom took a step forward, “What happened?”

“Wait…that’s where the body was...” Soren couldn’t connect the dots fast enough.

It was a blur on how the action seemed to happen. Time seemed to stop accordingly, Soren barely enough turned his head, eyes widening when the Risen commander had somehow pulled itself out of the rubble, it’s trident raised dangerously high. Chrom had barely begun turning when time began to start flowing again, the only one moving fast enough was the sound of a voice.

“Father, no!”

It happened in a blur—Marth threw herself in the midst of the battle, her sword swinging behind her back and countered the trident heads, gritting her teeth aggressively. With a swipe of her leg, the Risen had been kneed and with an aggravated shout, Marth pierced the Risen through its chest. It gurgled painfully but evaporated into smoke, Marth’s fierce stance still locked in the empty space. Her chest rose wildly, a thin layer of sweat coating her forehead when her mouth finally gave way a relieved sigh. She turned, Chrom and Soren staring at her and the action she just invoked.

 “Thank the gods you’re safe!” Marth remarked, lowering her sword into its sheathe.  However, Chrom didn’t answer immediately, he remained quiet for a minute before looking to meet Marth’s gaze.

“…You called me “father.” Chrom repeated slowly.

Suddenly Marth looked very embarrassed—almost pale to her cheeks, “Did I? I—I mean—” Marth tentatively glanced at Soren’s direction. He didn’t know why she’d look at his direction of all places—but it was left feeling extremely strange. The moment was short lived when her gaze fell upon Chrom again, catching her swallowing. 

“….Perhaps we might speak privately?” Marth advised.

“Perhaps we should, yes…” Chrom agreed.

The situation grew awfully tense as Chrom and Marth diverted from the main path, turning towards the edge of the campgrounds to the midst of the woods Soren had sought to escape earlier to. Disconnected with the rest of the Shepherds, Soren had awkwardly returned in solitary, avoiding the hush gossip that began to linger the campgrounds about Chrom and Marth. Instead, he took to sit down upon a log, ignoring the growing headache and growing ache that began to linger at his chest.

Is this the truth that he wanted to learn about? Or was this just the beginning?


	25. Heed the Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took a bit longer than normal but I finally finished another series of mine, if anyone is a fan of Legend of Korra and the world itself, I'm sure you guys would enjoy it. But yeah, finally, we end this year on more suspense. Can't wait for this year to be over.
> 
> Weh. 
> 
> Be safe everyone, and thank you so much for all the support of this story. Please be safe for the holidays and lets welcome the new year with new hopes of a better year. Until then guys, Road.

Hours seemed to past since Marth and Chrom took to the privacy by the creek to discuss the revelation at hand. From the corner of ever watchful tactician, he could he see the two conversing from a distance, Marth’s arms withdraw closely to her body, her mouth barely moving in accordance to how intensely Chrom listened, his head nodding ever so lightly. Whatever they were discussing seemed to be tense…judging from how she ran into his arms some minutes ago. There were tears spilt and a look that Soren had only seen once before, when Chrom spoke quietly to Soren one night about the responsibility of being a father. On how he wished that his daughter would experience the kind of love that Emmeryn gave to both Lissa and himself. The way he gripped the worn, emerald fabrics that once belonged to the former Exalt, the pained expression. Soren had no doubts in his mind that Chrom would do whatever it takes to be the kind of father that his daughter deserves.

But it seemed that the future would have a disagreement to this.

Soren’s temple throbbed, scratching carefully as if his very nails could puncture his skull. Everything hurt. It wasn’t the type that he was used to; not the physical pain that had threatened his life on more than one occasion, or the type of horror that would keep him lingering awake so many nights. No, it was a lingering burn that threatened to tear at the foundations he began to build up for himself so carefully. When his gaze lingered upon to Marth, the warrior he thought so strangely connected with, it only crashed his thoughts process when he had to remind himself; ‘It’s Lucina.’ Whatever pieces to the abstruse puzzle he had collected shattered. The gears stopped churning and the smoke that expelled clogged his thought process. Marth was never ordinary, he knew that but after that revelation, all he wanted was a straightforward answer.

Soren sighed irritably, unable to ignore the way his nose twitched. He pressed his thumb and index finger against the crease along the center of his brows, taking a slow inhale to calm his nerves. Chrom and Lucina were still absent, for good reasons no doubt. They were probably having a lengthy conversation at the rate they were going if what was proposed was true. Soren didn’t want to interrupt their intense discussion, despite wanting to clear things amongst the growing concerned Shepherds.

Soren did what he had to and with Frederick’s assistance, the two managed to clear up some of the confusion and refocus the efforts of cleaning up the camp to move out. Lissa was tending to the injured with Maribelle and Libra, Frederick oversaw the remainder of the operation with Stahl and Sully close by his side. Now it was up to Soren to patiently wait by, observing some of the other Shepherds while they worked. Gaius was teasing Vaike about something Virion and Tharja could overhear, the two seeming displeased with their close rambunctious behavior. Cordelia was strong and bold in her approach to the others, tying and lifting several crates that held all their weaponry. Panne, in her Taguel form, approached the crates to carry off to the ship that Marth—no—Lucina brought with her.

Despite his best efforts, Soren couldn’t crowd control the Shepherds with the intense gossip. It seemed one misinformed or misspoken chat had the entire group wired to Chrom and Lucina, curious as to what was the true nature of their relationship. Ridiculous that this sort of gossip was happening in the first place. It didn’t make it any easier when Olivia heard wind of what was occurring. Dear Naga, she was not blessed with self-confidence. The way her eyes began to water and pool at the edge had nearly cracked his own heart if he hadn’t known the truth of the situation. She began to bawl at the edge of the recovering camp, now completely convinced her husband was having an affair with the mysterious, brooding warrior woman. It was so far from the truth—but he couldn’t tell her anything. She wouldn’t believe any of it.

Soren grew overwhelmed combating against Olivia’s pessimism. Even under Stahl’s tutelage to better understand others, Olivia was a completely different force he was not prepared for. Soren had to call for Sumia to come over to cheer the woman up and attempt to reassure her that Chrom wasn’t indeed having an affair. While watching from a safe distance, however, Olivia’s crying doubled at something Sumia had unknowingly suggested. Soren rubbed his temple, his head beginning to bound and beg to be cracked open to stop the pain. It was a mess trying to control the Shepherds merely by himself. More importantly—it was a mess trying to reassure Olivia that her husband wasn’t cheating on her.

“Soren?”

Soren jolted in place, his head nearly whiplashing from how fast he raised it. Chrom and Marth—Lucina— walking back, the tactician taking a stand and walking to meet them halfway. It seemed they were puzzled of the circumstances, Chrom’s waned expression glossing over the ruined campgrounds, but alighting with concern when he met to Soren’s.

 “Err….Soren?” Chrom raised a brow, “You look less for ware—is that Olivia crying as well? What happened?”

“It’s just that…” Soren swallowed, awkwardly gesturing to the two, “you two were out here, alone, and Marth is—” He caught sight of Lucina’s redden and puffy eyes, “—crying. She was crying and your wife is crying now. I have a splitting headache over what’s going on to be honest.” Soren rubbed his head, “This is how ill rumors are born.”

“I…” Chrom didn’t finish himself, instead looking to Lucina. She exhaled slowly, her lips quirking when her gaze met Soren’s. It was an eternity of waiting—wondering what she had to say. Soren didn’t understand their silence but under closer view….he caught a flash of moonlight brush along the back of her head. It rolled over towards her face, revealing the ocean that carried itself within her eyes…and something else. The symbol that burned brightly upon Chrom’s arm—resided within the iris of her right eye. The sign of the Exalt, the brand was her iris itself.

“My name….is not actually, Marth,” She revealed, “It’s Lucina.”

That solidified and confirmed his previous thoughts. This had to be it—there was no denying it anymore. It was as if he had found the shattered remains of the puzzle he had developed of her again, now all burnt and scrambled along the floor. It made sense that she was Lucina, it made _perfect_ sense and it’s the same reason it frustrated him so greatly. He never suspected in his wildest dreams for time travel to be a valid answer on Lucina’s origins. The hardened warrior he attempted to understand from all these months past; the ally he hadn’t pushed further on her background—it crashed and tumbled. The pulsating pain returned, persistent and swelling towards his temple. Soren had to sit himself down to prevent himself from falling for a dizzy spell. Rubbing in gentle circles, he groaned softly and shook his head. Lucina, seeming professional in her stance, approached the tactician.

“I know it is a lot of information to take in,” Lucina admitted.

“It surely is…I’m having trouble accepting it right now.” Soren uttered. His eyes darted to the tremble of earth beside him, catching Frederick’s armor striding towards them.

“Milord, is everything all right?” Frederick joined the group, eyes settling briefly upon Lucina before averting. Chrom had knelt beside Soren, double checking to make sure his friend wasn’t about to tilt over in a mental overload.

“Yes, we’re just...well…” Chrom scratched his neck, his eyes glancing over to Lucina awkwardly, “Well…this is Lucina, Frederick.”

Soren had never seen Frederick present an emotion other than weary and annoyance to the vast majority that wasn’t Lissa or Sumia, but to see his bulging eyes and his posture suddenly stiffening was noteworthy enough of the shocking detail. The tall tower met Lucina’s gaze and stared for a long moment, before finally his grip upon his lance loosened and it fell, like lightning striking the ground.

“By Naga, how is this even possible?”

“Well, as I was just going to explain—” Lucina was interrupted again when an ear-piercing wail escaped from beside. The four drew quiet, turning in the direction of Sumia and Olivia to find the Queen with flower petals along her feet, Sumia holding the stems of the poorly plucked flowers.

 “I thought we would last!” Olivia’s sobs were confided in the thin sleeves of her gown, her lance having been thrown by her feet ages ago. Soren looked at Chrom pointedly when Olivia’s wails grew louder, Sumia unable to reassure the woman anymore, joining in staring at Chrom’s direction with an insistent wave to them. Chrom cleared his throat, reclaiming his stance to join by Olivia’s side, brushing her shoulder gently.

“Olivia, why are you crying?” Chrom softly asked.

Olivia sniffed, wiping the corners of her eyes, “It’s all right, she’s beautiful and your happiness should come first—” She bellowed into uncontrollable sobs. All five seemed taken aback by her cries, Sumia slowly turning her head to scowl at Chrom’s direction.  

“Chrom—I truly hope this is all a misunderstanding?” Sumia held a warning tone under the question. When Sumia was not kind or clumsy, she had an iron fist hidden underneath her pocket. Chrom should recall best of all, he avoided being upset around Sumia in fear she’d tried to ‘slap’ some common sense in him again. Chrom briefly looked over to Lucina who seemed to hold the same worrisome look to Olivia.

“Is it all right if I tell her, Lucina?” Chrom requested, the younger woman nodding in permission.

Chrom nodded slowly, brushing along Olivia’s shoulder as the woman had lifted her head at the sound of her daughter’s name, “Olivia, this will come to you as a shock.” And in hush tones did Chrom explain to Olivia what had happened. Her hiccups escaped in soft pops until Chrom whispered something that caused her body to still, her entire back erecting straight and her gaze falling to meet Chrom’s.

“Ehhh?! How dare—this—this beautiful young woman is _our daughter?!_ My baby Lucina?!” Olivia couldn’t bare it, taking a stance as her bangles clattered loudly together, “Do you think me an idiot?!”

“Please Olivia, calm down—ow!” Chrom gripped his redden forehead, swinging his wrist defensively over his head.

As Grandmaster Tactician of the Shepherds, it only made sense that Soren intervened, “Olivia! Put down the branch!”

The next ten minutes were spent calming down Olivia; Soren had to bridge Olivia and Chrom apart for two seconds when the dancer pointed and claimed very—bold things. Bold things that no one was expecting to hear any time soon. Lucina had to finally confront her, claiming to show her the proof she needed. Despite Olivia’s rage induced moment, she had settled the branch off to the side from Soren’s coaxing her to listen to reason. Soon enough, she respectfully allowed Lucina to come over and show the proof of her origins—revealing the exalt symbol within her right eye. Olivia stood frozen, her arms trembling as she finally lost the energy to stand, kneeling down with her hands fisted upon her thighs.

“But—but I just held you last week.” Olivia’s voice cracked, exhausted and jumbled of the truth that was unfolding, “You were just but a babe in my arms.”

At that Lucina knelt beside Olivia, her hands stretching forward before jerking back to curl into fist on her laps. “Your baby is right where you left her, and perfectly safe. I am her from another time…or a time that is yet to be that is.” Lucina explained in a soft tone.

“It’s no wonder…” Soren murmured out loud, still rubbing his head while the others look over to his direction, “It’s why you knew where all the battles were to be—who we as the Shepherds—no one would know that better than Chrom’s daughter.” It was the only thing making sense to him at the moment. Unless she was a spy, there really was no other way that she would knew where each battle would take place. Then to imagine, she set herself up in each location…knowing what the potential outcome of the battle would be.

“Yes, Soren’s correct,” Lucina accounted, eyes glazing and recalling the embers drifting in her vision, “More than 10 years later after history takes a dark and most destructive turn…”

_***********************************_

_The Fell Dragon Grima had come some ten odd years ago. And in all those years, we had to fend what we could to survive._

_Mankind had been pushed to the furthest corners of the world, the Shepherds having died one by one in various battles to keep their families safe or keep their country safe. Regna Ferox was barely holding on, and the Ylissean capital was one of the few safe heavens in the world. I had a plan—I had started one at least…when an earthquake erupted at the capital._

 “Grr…that explosion…what was that?”  Blood splattered against the bricks that laid near her body, limps scattered and charred in various directions. Soldiers that had ran wildly to protect those that they could, to fight the hazardous battle against the Risen—gone. Lucina, princess of Ylisse, was the last one standing in the rubbles of her home—of her kingdom. Blood leaked from the cut on her forehead, her body shaking from the tremendous, dark energy behind her. The falchion was grasped tightly between her paled hands, the only source of hope she had. Her vision had been blocked from the endless dust that rained down upon her, her eyes scanning along the torn down walls and ceiling.

_I didn’t know how the Risen managed to enter that day—how they managed to overwhelm the forces we were building so carefully. There was still much time until night but that day, it was so dark. I couldn’t see anything. Everything we had done—it was for not._

“So ends the human race.” Her body jolted, whirling in place with the sword guarding her. The smoke suffocating her lungs, blinding her vision, she could whirl as the menacing speech continued, “The future is built upon the past…but YOUR kind shall never see it!”

The princess turned to the side, her insides freezing over when the glow of three, blood orbs appeared within the smoke, the eyes focusing together onto her form. She shook briefly, mustering the courage to stand against the monster before her.

“…Your mother and father are dead, tiny one.” As if it knew—as if it knew after all the lives it had taken. It was this beasts fault—this was Grima—this was the monster that caused everything! Taking her family away—her friends’—her kingdom—the future itself!

Lucina boldly stood her ground while the world around her vibrated and shook, the fell dragon Grima rising, revealing its gargantuan form. Lucina couldn’t control the shakes that quelled through her entire persona, knowing nothing but horror and anger at the face of the creature that started it all.

“And now it is your turn—” The handle burned within her grasp, raising it while the world trembled beside her. The rage that pent within her soul, gathering at this moment. The same moment when the beast howled, “—TO DIE!”

Her yell echoed as loudly, damned to the consequences.

“LUCINA!” Her body was slammed to the ground, an explosion of stone and wind knocking above them. Lucina had lost her breathe, her eyes dilating when she caught sight of Gerome, a dear friend that had saved her countless times before. His dark armor had suffered a crack from saving her from such a blow, but it seemed by the way his grip upon her shoulders he didn’t even notice, “Are you unharmed?” Lucina shook in his grip, sitting up carefully when a Pegasus landed beside them, her other friends unsettling from the winged horse.

“Thank gods we came in time!” Cynthia smiled widely, a timid friend kneeling beside Lucina, “We’re always watching you Lucy, don’t worry!”

“Cynthia! Noire! Oh, thank you! If you hadn’t come…then the attack would’ve….!” Lucina gripped her arms, taking the moment to steel herself. She had survived death once again. Her eyes flickered to the darkened skies, seeing the giant mass hurl and cut through the very sky itself.

“Why has Grima shown up all of a sudden…?” Noire questioned, a tight grip upon her long bow and her head tilted up towards the sky.

“Perhaps…it was because I contacted Naga…” Lucina’s thoughts dwindled at the thought of the Awakening, a ritual to be able to finish Grima off once and for all. It was possible since she was of Exalt blood and they had the royal shield, the Fire Emblem. But the jewels were missing—scattered god knows where in this forsaken land of death. She had tried in vain….but was given an ultimatum.

“He thought to crush us before we could flee to the past?” Gerome regarded the matter, his darkened mask hiding what expression he could muster, but his gritting teeth expressed it more.

“Oh no!” Cynthia gasped, her armored boots clicking on the broken floor, “It’s bad! Another one’s coming!” Lucina and Gerome both snapped their attention up, seeing Grima was rounding towards them, a beam of purple piercing the sky. Cynthia slapped at her pegasus’s hind, catching Noire by the hand while Gerome and Lucina took to run, the entire floorspace where they stood exploding into cinders.

“Tch!” Lucina threw her shield over her head, rocks pelting aggressively as she snapped her attention towards the sky, glaring, “If we keep dodging, he’ll just keep causing more damage! We have to do something about him fast!”

“But there’s nothing we could do!” Cynthia arrived with her horse, sighing in defeat. Noire looked depressed, rubbing her face, “My bow is useless too. It’d be like shooting a stone wall!”

“He’s simply too big! How in the world can we fight an opponent like that?” Gerome hissed.

_My kingdom was burning asunder, but there was still people alive. I had to do something. I had known the Falchion had great strength—it was what destroyed Grima once before in a past life—and I could only imagine the properties it held._

Lucina’s gaze fell towards the massive back of the beast, watching it break through the cloud banks that formed over the burning city. Her eyes narrowed, recalling all the old stories of the Falchion’s glory. No, there was something more she could’ve done. Her determination exposed when she faced her comrades, setting her sights upon the lone male, “Gerome, would you be able to drop me on Grima’s head?”

“What?!” Cynthia interrupted Gerome from speaking, blocking Lucina’s line of view of him, “Are you crazy?!”

“There’s something I want to try,” Lucina regarded, “No, I must try. If we do not do something, Grima will continue his rampage to the further most corners of this world and destroy all living life as we know it.”  

Cynthia merely starred, jaw agape as incoherent sounds escaped, and her fingers trembled. Noire seemed uneased at the suggest as well, her eyes lifting towards the sky above, the bellow of Grima echoing above. Gerome pressed a hand to Cynthia’s shoulder and she was unable to tell if he thought he was agreeing with her. It was only until that he took a step towards Lucina’s direction and nodded firmly did Cynthia shriek.

“WHAT?!” Cynthia snapped her attention between the two, “Gerome?! You’re agreeing to this?!”  

“If Lucina is determined then I will accompany her.” Gerome’s steel tone shuttered Cynthia’s reasoning, the younger Pegasus knight flinching in retaliation. Cynthia groaned, her face digging into her gloved hands. Noire took to Cynthia’s side, brushing her back in reassurance that they should take the moment to leave while they could. Gerome set his mask properly, whistling loudly into the air. Lucina couldn’t even hear Gerome’s wyvern descend upon them as Grima seemed to begin making a large turn back towards the castle. Lucina clicked her tongue, turning to the younger women.

“Go! Find the others! If you find any survivors get them out of the city while you can!” Lucina commanded.

“R—Right!” Noire clasped Cynthia’s shoulders, tugging her to her flittering Pegasus, the pig-tailed girl now doing her best to calm the winged horse. Lucina took no moment in delay with reaching Gerome as he mounted the wyvern, clasping his hand and tightly secured her arms around his waist. It was a moment before rocketing to the sky, her eyes tearing from how fast they rose and smog penetrated her lungs. Piercing through the toxic cloud, Lucina attention dropped below, her eyes widening to see the massive beast floating below them.

“Lucina—are you sure about this?” Gerome asked cautiously, his line of view following with hers, “Once mistake and this is it. There’s no second chances.”

“I know,” Lucina frowned, clasping tightly to the handle of her sword, “If this plan fails and I die, find the Falchion and give it to Inigo. If not—then be ready.”

“I have no doubt then,” Gerome heaved at the reins, the wyvern turning boldly in the adversity of the gales and diving towards the Death Dragon, “Go!” She didn’t remember when she took the leap, falling down with the wind slapping at her face and blistering her hands when she took hold of her sword.

“AHHHHHH!” Lucina fell with one fell swoop, piercing the skull of the massive beast. The Falchion seemed to burn his flesh alit and it howled deafeningly in pain. Lucina stumbled and slid, grasping the Falchion for dear life as the beast turned. Her attention averted when he she heard her name shouted amiss in the darkness, taking a chance of relieving the sword from her positioning and jumping off the giant dragon. The only screech she grew comforted to hear was Gerome’s splitting through the darkness, her rider catching onto Lucina’s arm and tugged her behind him, the young woman gripping his armor.

“Did you get him?” Gerome had asked while Lucina looked over, finding the black mass beat its wings and began to sore off in a different direction.

“No, I wasn’t trying to defeat him. But an attack from the Falchion is a threat to him. It should have seriously wounded him.” Lucina faced the grim devastation that Grima had left behind in the wake of his path, fires waging across fields and fields, countless villages—all the villages that surrounded the Ylissean kingdom—decimated.

_“It had work—but at a price that I wasn’t ready for. The villages surrounded the capital burned. My friends were nearly killed. I had to go—I had to go and cross the path of time to get here. I didn’t know if they would join at first…but we did. We reached together to cross time’s path though we lost each other once we reached here. And…”_

_***********************************_

“There’s more…?”

The bleak reality suddenly crumbled, jeering white streaks shattering the past away from her focus, Lucina steeling herself to return to the present. Soot no longer covered her clothing, the ground breathed life and the air was crisp from the chill of the late evening. Instead, her attention raised to the hovering gazes of the Shepherds above her, all intently listening for the end of her story.

“Well, that’s when our paths had crossed,” Lucina finished, “I donned a new identity and set myself to prevent the horrific future that is to come. I made a vow to never let that future come to pass, no matter what it takes.”

The group had remained in total silence, Soren having found himself completely astonished over the tale. It was…much worse than he expected. He couldn’t scarce imagine the horrors she had to behold. Lucina nodded solemnly, her eyes lingering to what he imagined was still her future. _Their_ future. By the Gods—everyone was—

“And that’s why you’re here….” Chrom regarded. Lucina merely nodded, her fingers curling at the hem of her scarf.

“His roar is a death knell for man, a scream that silences all hope.” Lucina frowned, exhaling carefully, “We were pushed to the ends of the world…we had no choice in this matter. We _have_ to change our fates.”

“There’s…there’s more children like you?” Sumia interrupted, Frederick hovering by his wife’s side, a strange look crossing his face, “Your friends from the story?”

“They should be here. At least, I pray they are well and had made it through.” Lucina tucked her hair briefly behind her ears, exhaling uneasily. Soren had slowly thought about all their conversations thus far, suddenly all her cryptic logic and way of answering becoming clear. By the Gods, everything was going to be for nothing?

“This…all sounds crazy,” Soren admitted heavily, “A God? Resurrected to destroy everything? Our whole company, dead?

“Yes.” Lucina didn’t miss a beat. Soren had paused, his shoulders slouching and a heavy exhale escaping from him. Grima—would rob the future—everything they were doing now—would it lead up to it?

“…….I…I don’t know what to say.” Soren rubbed the back of his neck, frowning.

“A tale that beggars belief, and yet the truth of it stands before us. She carries Falchion, my same sword. And the same sword the first exalt used to defeat Grima long ago.” Chrom stood beside Lucina, determined to help her case, something Soren wasn’t surprised he was to do. Marth had become someone he trusted—Lucina would certainly get his devotion as not only a fellow warrior but his daughter.

“Your blade and mine are one. It was….it was all I had left of you.” Lucina crestfallen expression was enough to break anyone’s spirit, knowing that she was left such a heavy legacy. A burden and duty to save a dying future. Soren pressed his lips together, his heart dropping. Was there anything that they could do now to change it?

“Well I believe her too!” Lissa had joined this family conference, swinging by Soren’s side, the tactician jumping in place with a mere, “Lissa?! What are you doing here?”

 “If it wasn’t _for_ Lucina, I’m sure things would’ve been a lot messier! _Heck_ , I saw her COME from the future! She fell right out of the sky!” Lissa argued in favor, slapping Soren’s back. The tactician groaned, still having not fully recovered from the last battle. Lissa grinned, turning to face Lucina with a raised brow, “Though, how did you get to the past? I can’t think of any tomes that has a power like that.”

“Naga, the divine dragon, feared mankind would face Grima again. In preparation for that day, she devised a ritual. It allows one to return to the past and alter events already written.” Lucina regarded.

She actually met Naga. The Divine Dragon Naga; A Goddess worshipped throughout the lands of Ylisse.

“…….Why did she have that so conveniently planned?” Soren rubbed his face, “Thank Naga, I suppose—ow!”

“Stop being like that!” Lissa poked roughly at his shoulder, the tactician swatting her hand away and sticking his tongue out at her. Chrom merely sighed over their antics, growing to become like Frederick whenever Soren and Lissa had their bickers. Even with Frederick standing close by, there was nothing the large knight could do but allow it to settle naturally down. Olivia remained glancing towards the ground, her lips pressed tightly together while her fingers brushed along the lower eyelid. A soft sigh expelled, catching Lucina’s attention and raising it to Olivia’s weary glance.

“You’re….really my daughter…”  Olivia regarded, staring at her. It seemed she was handling the situation better now, despite the grueling details.

Lucina firmly nodded, “Yes. I swear it.” Olivia remained quiet for a few seconds, her fingers carefully drawing out grass blades from the foundation below her.

“But you’re so strong and beautiful…nothing like me!” Olivia blushed bashfully. At that Lucina scoffed softly, shaking her head, reaching out to squeezes Olivia’s hand.

“Everything like you milady.” Lucina insisted boldly, smiling.

“……You don’t want to call me mother?”  There was a strange pause and even Soren had to raise his head for that moment. Lucina seemed completely caught off guard by the suggestion, her hand having retracted only mere inches away from Olivia’s. It twitched and wavered slightly, curling her digits into the center of her palm.

“Is it all right? I thought…you might mind.” Lucina reputed

“Mind? It would make me happier than anything!” Olivia smiled brightly, a glimmer of tears building at the corner of her eyes. Lucina’s lips trembled as she remained frozen in place, Olivia taking the moment to adjust herself, embracing her in a gentle hug. The warrior’s shell continued to crack and break as she now wrapped her arms, burying her face into Olivia’s shoulder.

“Oh mother….” A soft sob escaped.

“I love you Lucina.” Olivia cooed, brushing her hair back.”

“I’ve missed you…”

***********************************

Hours after learning the truth of Marth’s identity, the Shepherds made great haste to get off the cursed island, loading in droves onto the ship that Lucina had provided. There was not much of an argument with Lucina joining the team, maybe some more was pressed against Henry. The young dark mage had a knack of unsettling the other Shepherds. Even Tharja was weary of his presence, having accounts of his deeds while she was still within the Plegian army. From the way she would press her tome tightly against her chest, a glower settling under the shadows of her bangs, it was clear that Henry was going to become the next victim of her curses. If she could land the hit that is.

The wind howled in Soren’s ears pleasantly, sighing softly as he watched the island disappear from his line of sight. It was a long day, too long for that matter. Soren was tired, but his anxiety prevented him from cozily joining the others. The rest of the Shepherds were below deck, in need of a much-needed rest. Soren offered to stay on patrol in the meantime, keeping a watchful gaze of the ocean’s horizon. The world seemed so vastly faraway, as if he was merely standing at time’s edge, over watching the universe. It felt like it.......the way the water reflected the starry sky above, if he had happened to jump off the boat, he would touch the solar system instead. The only thing that reminded him of its false charm was the ripples the boat would create, gently coaxing and wavering each star into a swirl of a mini galaxy.

Soren’s hands gripped the bar of the vessel, peering out into the vast water that separated them to Regna Ferox, holding onto the hope that the wind favors to their side. They needed to reach Regna Ferox, they needed to discuss the crucial information that was gained with Basilio and Flavia. They needed to know that it was no longer about the Valmese invading all of Ylisse. It was no longer about a potential war—the entire future was on the line. If Soren hadn’t felt the pressure before, it was intensified by the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. Millions of lives were now at stake….

How can one-person shoulder that much of a burden by themselves?

The lean male shifted in place, fingers tracing along his exposed wrists. His shoulders hunched slightly at the thought that there wouldn’t be anything left. That the future they were working so hard for—could disappear instantly. Drawing his thumb to his lips, Soren’s eyes narrowed sharply when his thoughts drifted to the similar cloaked individual. Standing by the remains of the Risen Commander, cheeky and coy in his stature.

_“Why don’t you ask your mysterious enigma—or better yet, why not we force her to reveal her secrets?”_

Reon’s words sharply hung over, swords tied by ropes over his body, threatening to pierce him the further he dug into their meaning. The way that he teased about Lucina’s origins…he had been teasing it for ages now. Reon knows who Lucina seems to be, but how? If Lucina originated from the future…does that mean Reon might have as well?

Soren sighed roughly, rubbing his temples gently in motion. There was too much at play to even being hypothesizing. If he were to ponder on the subject any longer, he’d surely turn deranged. Exhaling steadily, his gaze returned to the shifting tides hoping that the tranquil motions would distract him enough from the long journey they soon would be enduring.

“What a night.” He tiredly admitted, breaking out from his held-up shell and ran a hand along his face, quirking his lips.

“Yes…it is.”

Soren didn’t jump like his thoughts had intended at that very moment. Instead, he found himself almost expecting it at this point. He briefly gazed over his shoulder to find Lucina joining him upon the deck, still geared in her armor and falchion carefully sheathed along her hip. He almost scoffed to himself at the luck that he had, looking up to the high heavens and wondering what Naga had intended for him. Scoffing silently, he peered back towards the ocean to he found her presence drawn close, her wrists overlapping one another over the metal railing. Her normal stoic attitude was replaced with one of tranquility, the way they memorized and took part in the gentleness the ocean had to offer. There was a spark in the dark pools of her eyes, a smidge of pain that seemed to know what could happen the moment she was to blink. To blink was to lose everything that had happened thus far.

 “Ma—ugh, I apologize Lucina,” Soren tiredly rubbed the corner of his eyes, “I’m still used to referring you as Marth. It may take some time before I’ve completely gotten used to calling you Lucina.”

“Don’t worry,” Lucina offed a small smile, “It’ll probably take some time for myself to get used to.”

 The air grew still between the two, both focusing out towards the waters. The island was a distant memory at this point, the jumbled thoughts that held him tied to the land releasing him one by one. His fingers drummed along the wooden railing, briefly darting his attention to the calm composed woman beside him, hearing the beating in his head ring. Louder and louder, ‘ _Ask her. You need to—you want to know more.’_ It was aching, his chest constricting in tantalizing sensations. Slowly looking to the warrior besides, her gaze met his and he felt a jolt run along his shoulders. He almost forgot what he was going to ask her. Almost.

 “What brings you out here so late?” Soren inquired, “I would assume you would have been getting some rest.”

Lucina’s lips quirked to the side, “I’ve been talking to Chrom and Olivia this entire evening…to be honest I’m a little drained. I came out here for some much needed some air.”

“I’m sure they had a lot of questions for you, with the circumstances at hand…” Soren regarded the subject, crossing his arms lazily over the railings, the tips of his fingers tracing against the cold surface.

“Yes, I tried answering them as best I could. It still feels like a dream however, that I actually made it this far.” Her fingers curled under the metal bars, the whites of her knuckles shining as her lips knitted together, “I was afraid…that I almost missed an opportunity such as this.” The tactician hip cocked to the side, awaiting as Lucina’s lips pursed to let out a slow exhale of air, tensely gripping the railing, “That maybe I would have been too late if I had allowed my pride and stubbornness to pester…”

 “I’m not surprised to be honest.” Soren regarded with a wave.

“Hmm?” Lucina’s gaze swept at him, a scowl threatening to form.

_‘Oh, that sounded bad’_

Soren coughed in his sleeves, hiding the blush that threatened to form, “What I mean is—I can sense that you haven’t been able to trust anyone since you’ve gotten to our time, Lucina,” Soren explained himself, “Trusting Chrom or Olivia may be one thing—they’re your parents. Or a form of them. However, myself and the others—we’re foreign to you. And apparently this killer—” Something pulsed in his veins, a frown resting upon his lips, “—is someone close to Chrom. That could mean /any/ of the Shepherds, myself no less included.”

Lucina remained silent to his observation, instead glancing back to the open tide, her hands self-consciously reaching above her elbows, rubbing them gently.

“What I’m trying to say is that you weren’t incorrect in your judgements. They have persisted throughout perilous odds that if you hadn’t been in your mindset, I’m afraid things would have been gravely different.” The memory of rain and blood swept up likes the tides against the boat, the tips of his fingers tracing along his chest recalling his close dance with death. If it wasn’t for Lucina then, Soren surely would have perished before the Shepherds would have been able to get him to Regna Ferox.

“Now you’re faced with a new challenge,” Soren pried himself away from the railings, bringing distance between themselves, “Not only have you made your goal known, but now you’ve chosen to entrust us with safe-guarding the future. It’s not only on Chrom’s shoulders but myself as well.” Soren peered at her, “And know that I will fight vigorously to ensure this future never sees the light of day.”

**_"Are you sure about that?"_ **

“Then you understand the importance of my mission,” Lucina uttered, “Soon enough Ylisse will enter the war with the Valmese and in the midst of the endless bloodshed will the tragedy against my father occur. We cannot—we MUST not—lose this war. History has a tendency to relign itself to the favorably time, judging from what happened to Aunt Emmeryn—” A steady exhale escaped, “I had failed once—and I cannot allow it again.” 

Soren watched her concentrated expression, carefully nodding, “I understand the severity of this situation.”

“Then as the tactician of the Shepherds you must ensure that Chrom and this brave army avert catastrophe,” Her words carried the weight—the burden she had been holding onto for so long—it was almost painful to see, “We cannot let this future pass once again.”

There was an eerie pause that lingered. Soren knew how to answer her, but breaking through his parted lips he found no words. Taken aback again and again by her—something didn’t sit well with him. Instead, he nodded confidently, reaching to grip tightly upon the railing, “I will do everything in my power, Lucina. I swear it.” Soren vowed, “I will never stop fighting for you, Chrom, and all the people of the world.”

Lucina’s gaze upon him was cautious, as if she held her sword readily at his throat. One mistake and one day she might do so. Slowly, her eyes shut and a sigh escaped from her lips, her bangs sweeping across her forehead. She brushed them away, allowing a relieved smile escape, “That is what I wanted to hear…or more so needed to hear.” Lucina pressed a hand to her forehead, dragging it down with her hand cupping along her jaw, “Thank you Soren, truly. I have no doubts in mind that you’d keep your word.”

“I think by now you can trust I don’t go back on my word,” There was a tease that lightened her mood, a soft smile forming under the moonlit night. Her gaze raised from the ocean to his before flickering upwards.

“It seems awfully late, I think I shall retire to my cot now—though I would suggest you’d do the same Soren.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously to him.

“Why do you suggest that?” Oh, he knew why. Judging by the way his eyes looked right now, he’d probably look like he was turning into a Risen. Lucina rested her hands upon her cocked hips.

“You have bags under your eyes, sir. I’ve noticed you have trouble sleeping ever since we were on the carriage to Regna Ferox.” Lucina expressed, “I think it’d be best to seek attention with a cleric if it’s become a problem.”

Soren rubbed the back of his neck, humming, “Let’s just say I have a case of insomnia. But if it eases you, I’ll talk with Lissa tomorrow to do something about it.”

“That would.” With a bow of her head, she passed Soren to press on towards the lower deck, “Have a good evening, Soren.” Each step of her descent echoed till the rolling tides behind him brought him back forth on the deck. Soren pressed his lips together, gazing out towards the moonlight waves. A straightforward answer is what he received this evening. He wasn’t too sure how it made him feel….it felt hollow almost at the very moment. With gentle rubs along his chest, Soren sighed wearily and took a turn away from the railings, finding his feet mechanically heading towards the staircase to the lower deck. Perhaps if he forced himself, sleep would greet him with open arms.

**_“You know…you’re stepping closer towards the truth.”_ **

His steps ceased on the first step of the flight of stairs, his hand curling tightly around the railing down, “I don’t want to hear this nonsense…not tonight.” The creases along his forehead formed, a frown developing as he turned. The familiar distortion reappeared at the center of the deck, blurring what was reality and fantasy. His mind turned against him—or held hostage by another at this point.

**_“Oh yeah? And here I thought that the truth was what you wanted.”_ **

“I clearly don’t know what I want, I already have more than I could ever ask for. I’m happy with what truths I’ve discovered thus far—I won’t go digging further to something that I’ll regret.” Soren snapped to Reon, the hood falling off to reveal the crimson locks falling over on the side of his face.

**_“That’s the thing, Soren. You think you have control over what is happening.”_ **

Soren clicked his teeth together, finding himself making the mistake of turning away from the potential safety of the lower deck. He took three long strides to return to the middle of the deck, the wind catching at his cloak and flap it against the breeze. Reon remained unmoved by the affects of nature, preserved in whatever world that he held himself in. Instead, he exaggerately rolled his wrists, his fingers extending out towards Soren’s direction then towards his chest, **_“That you think that this isn’t all a coincidence. Cause trust me—heh—this isn’t. Not by a long shot.”_**

Soren hesitated but pressed on, “What do you mean this isn’t a coincidence.”

 ** _“Oh, now you’re curious.”_** Reon wagged his finger, ever so carefully beginning to saunter to the right, ** _“Being in the shadows of a great man—a greater man than you are. You /are/ his shadow. So there lies a little jealous. Just a sprout. It’s not a lot…but when you get frustrated over events you can’t control—the sense of powers that is not yours to handle but his—doesn’t that infuriate you?”_**

Jealous….?

“No,” Soren frowned, “I’ve never desired that. I’ve had no need to. We work side by side—”

 ** _“Because you’re two halves of a greater whole, is that right?”_** Reon teased, pressing a hand to his chest, flipping his hand out towards the air with a nonchalant wave, ** _“For now that’ll be the case. But as this war unfolds, you’re going to notice something about yourself you didn’t know before.”_**

“…..What do you know?” Soren uttered, “I didn’t ask for some divine intervention.”

 ** _“That’s the thing…you had.”_** Reon answered in a matter of fact tone, “ **_You asked for clearance since the very beginning. That notebook of yours holds so many questions, you desired to know the truth of your past. Of who you truly are. Yet—when you came with the first bit of truth that was too hard to swallow…..you closed off the book entirely. You were too /afraid/ to admit that you could be the very imagine that your dear Shepherds hate.”_**

“That’s a lie, the Shepherds don’t discriminate against the Plegians.” Soren didn’t realize how far his steps had taken him, his back shaking from the cold touch of the metal wall behind him, “Chrom had made that very clear—I’ve enforced it—”

**_“But that’s only /with/ the Shepherds. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what those terrible Ylissesan politicians said about you. If it hadn’t been for Chrom pledging his word for you, they’d have you run out of the country.”_ **

“They don’t matter—”

 ** _“But Soren….they /do/. I mean, take a rock for example.”_** Reon formed his hand out wide open and in flickers of dark lights, a small gray rock laid upon his pale palm.

At first Soren didn’t understand, briefly lifting his gaze to see the flat expression Reon had bothered to offer. So instead, Soren slowly pressed on, “…A rock? What does that have to do with anything—”

**_“Yeah, a silly old rock. It was pressed together after so many years of concentrated effort. Its strong, resilient even if you throw it. But….the thing about rocks is that—no matter how hard the surface is, if you’d put that rock in water—eventually those waves will wear at it till it’s all but nothing. To reveal what its true nature was after all.”_ **

To reveal its true nature?

Soren’s brows furrowed together, frowning at the game that Reon had been offering. It was too good to be true to trust in this crazy man’s game again. Soren shook his head wildly, shutting his eyes and taking a steady exhale, “Enough with this pathetic game. Chrom isn’t a rock and I’m not going to listen to any of this any longer.”

 ** _“Ha……but see, I wasn’t talking about /Chrom/.”_** Soren had reached the stair case as Reon’s sentence finally caught to his ears, **_“I was talking about you, Soren.”_**

Soren didn’t dare move, suddenly hearing the agonizing vibrations of the waves hit against the ship.

**_“How long is it going to take to wear you down. And when you do get worn down, maybe you’ll finally be open to accepting the whole-hearted truth that you know lies deep inside you.”_ **

Silence consumed him, he couldn’t dare face back to the man that eagerly waited for a reaction. Instead, he baited his time, swallowing carefully as his fingers twitched at the railings. It seemed like ages before Reon finally sighed, impatient in his game.

 ** _“I’ll be waiting until then Soren. It’s only a matter of time.”_** He was gone before Soren raised his gaze to look. It was quiet upon the upper deck, and Soren could only retract his movements to the wall behind him and slouch to the ground, face buried within his hands ** _._**

Tonight was going to be a long night.


	26. Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is late, but it's here. Had to cut this one a little short cause what I originally had was getting too long. 
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter comes sooner then. 
> 
> Hope you all are well, take care of yourselves, be safe, eat well, binge-watch your shows. 
> 
> Peace ya'll, till next time. 
> 
> Weh.

“The sea is on fire!” 

Lissa’s voice boomed over the crackling of embers and oil ignited upon the open waters of the ocean. Smoke and salt tainted the lungs of all that came close to it’s path, arms pressed over on foreheads to view the hellish scenery. Thousands of ships crackled and crumbled into the ocean tides, leaving hundreds to thousands of men dead to cast into the watery graves below. Lissa awaited at the edge of the boat while several of the Shepherds joined close by to her, eyes scanning meticulously across the raging surface.

“It worked…” Frederick dragged a hand across his jaw, eyes widen and his chest expanding over the astonishing victory. The Valmese had intercepted them out on sea—they overwhelmingly outnumbered them by ships and men, eager to put a stop to the Shepherds from even attempting to reach the continent of Valm. Chrom knew a battle would be at hand but Soren, ever so witted, had a scheme for the little provisions they had to offer. Owning a small team of ten others, they took off on a separate ship to confront the Valmese general that orchestrated this mass gathering. While Frederick had wanted to remain at Chrom’s side, his lord objected to it, knowing someone had to look after his younger sister in his stead. So here he waited, watching as the others had defeated the commanding ship and made quick work of their next actions.

A signal was fired from afar while men hastily abandoned their ships for another, half of their fleet becoming empty with none other than oil. With the Valmese fleet growing closer and the remaining Shepherds aboard the other it was only a matter of time when Soren enacted by far the most harebrained scheme Frederick had ever witnessed. He exploded half of their fleet. All ticking timebombs directly into the Valmese fleets.

And it worked.

Now the question remained; did they get out in time?

“Wait! Look!” Lissa’s body lifted itself from the floor to reach the wooden railing, gripping tightly on the rope beside her and pointed wildly at the water, “I see them! Chrom! Soren!!! Heeey!” Frederick was almost certain she was ready to throw herself overboard from how far she was leaning forward. Yet the minute the ladder descended at the side of the ship for the swimming crew members, he rushed immediately over.

“Milord!” Frederick was the first at the bends of the ship, kneeling down and clasping the arm that reached awkwardly upwards.

“I can’t believe that worked—” Chrom’s body fell down on his behind, salt water dripping from his forehead as several Shepherds were assisted on re-boarding the ship after him. Lucina was next coughing hoarsely and latched her grip upon Sumia’s. Her hair damp against her cheeks and forehead, her teeth was continuously chattering while Sumia assisted her on. Gaius was quick to follow, spitting stream of water out, smacking his bangs away only for it to splat right back in place. The thief grumbled in place, allowing for Tharja to join after, an ominous presence surrounding her when Henry chuckled wildly, plopping beside her and recanting how that was a nice swim. It wasn’t long till Gaius found the source of his displeasure.

“Never again will you convince me to fight on sea. Ever.” Gaius eyed Soren, the long-haired male pulled along the wooden surface of the deck, a wide grin revealed underneath his wet mane. The Ylissean tactician undid his hair from his ponytail, nipping at the tie that held it back while he squeezed what water he could from it. His dark orbs crossed over to examine the sun dots that began to form along the bridge of Gaius’s nose, watching as his face scrunched up from the intent examination.

“Stop smiling, I can see it on your face. I mean it this time, I have Tharja backing me up, right??” Silence met his request, now Soren peeling his gaze away from him to find Tharja glaring towards Henry. If curses were capable by the mere glance, Tharja would have brought down the entire ship at this rate. Gaius seemed to have notice, having peeked over her shoulder with a raised brow.

“You still don’t like that kid, do you?” Asked Gaius, leaning his arm against his raised knee. Tharja’s gaze narrowed, huffing softly at his question.

“It’s not that I don’t—he’s knowledgeable in his craft. The spells he cast…they’re worth learning for another dark mage like myself but…he can be quite annoying.” Tharja’s lips worded soundlessly after that, except for the sharp ‘TCH’ that escaped when Henry leaned in beside her, wordlessly joining the conversation.

“…Uh…excuse you.” Gaius waved a hand, attempting to shoosh him off. Yet Henry seemed interested in what was being spoken of, scotching over and plopping his own soaking arms against his wet pantaloons.

“That was one heck of a plan, I couldn’t believe their faces when we ignited all the oil on those ships! It was priceless, Soren!” Henry cackled, the tactician finally twisting the tie to fasten his hair back, quirking his lips at Henry’s excitement. Tharja seemed to roll her eyes at the comment, tugging the towel to shield over her shaking body.

“You have to admit—that went better than anyone could expect.” Gaius agreed lamely, glancing over his shoulder to meet Soren’s, “Hell, even I thought it was a bit outlandish even for you, Bubbles. But I’m glad I’m able to keep my good looks afloat.”

“I’m glad that my abilities as a tactician was spent to preserve your good looks, Gaius.” Soren teased back, settling his attention upon Henry next, “I can’t say what I did was perfect though. It came with the sacrifice of half of our fleet.”

“But did anyone die?” Henry pressed questionably, “Well, except for all the bad guys in a raging storm of fire.”

Attempting to disregard the urge to roll his eyes, Soren found himself looking down at his wrist, “No—which I’m thankful for. You all took a risk being out there—I couldn’t ask more of you.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Gaius teased, locking an arm around Soren’s neck, the threat of Gaius enacting his revenge intensifying, “Credit is finally given to us, thanks Bubbles.”

“Release him before I curse you…” Tharja hissed lowly, a frightening glower taking over. Henry on the other hand seemed to laugh at that, going on about how he had already tried cursing Gaius but he’s too quick to catch.

“See, even that kid has figured it out—” The wooden stick from Gaius's chewed lollipop drooped, his eyes widening, “Wait a second—you did _what_?!”

“Nyahaha.” Henry’s laugh was going to be a haunting echo if not for the occasional crow that would land on his shoulder from time to time. Gaius held no restraint in his demeanor, teeth bared and clenched, ready to completely off the kid at any moment. 

“You know what, you’re off the hook.” Gaius released Soren, now aiming for Henry’s direction, “I’m going to drop him back into the ocean!”

“Haha—hey Nowi! Looks like Gaius is up for playing now!” Henry called out loudly, the ends of his heels kicking quickly at the ground, his body a blur as he charged upwards, Gaius not even three feet behind the bolting dark mage. Soren allowed for a heavy sigh to escape finally, peeling away his bangs from his forehead.

“Did I make a mistake with accepting Henry into the Shepherds?” Soren found himself asking.

“Perhaps,” Tharja acknowledged, her pale hand furled in front of her chest, gripping the towel tightly, “It’s not a mistake that he’s a good fighter but in the mean time we’ll have to watch him—make sure he doesn’t do anything to injure you.”

“…Tharja, you could try to show concern for the others from time to time.” Soren deadpanned towards her direction, “It can’t _always_ be about me, you have friends too. Continue on like this and Virion may start to get the wrong idea that you’re interested in him and instead with me.”

“Maybe that’s the idea.” Tharja held a wicked grin, a blush running along her cheeks. Soren could only stare in return, wondering why she was so obsessed with him. It's not like he's surprised anymore...but he can't help but wonder. He flushed in embarrassment, glancing away from Tharja's intense gaze, drumming his fingers against his cheek.  

_Naga help me._

When Soren opened his mouth to change the conversation, instead he felt his breath knocked out of his chest. A hard hand slapped against his back and after a painful groan, the four were now casting their gaze up to Khan Flavia who grinned proudly down at the tactician’s direction.

“Soren, I have to hand it to you—that was utterly brilliant scheme you hatched. Who else would desert half our vessels and turn them into flaming cannonballs?” Flavia acknowledged, her view casting out to the hellish scene beside them. It seemed everyone found Soren’s tactic to be eccentric. It wasn’t the matter of possessions that had concerned Soren after all in the end of the day. If everyone made it out of the battlefield with their lives at hand, he’d call that a success over any victories in battle.“And there was still enough room on the remaining ships for all our troops!” Flavia slapped at Soren’s shoulder, boldly laughing that even rivaled Basilio’s, “It was so simple, and yet the Valmese never saw it coming. Looks like you’re finally fitting those large shoes this army ordered.”

“They never considered anyone might be willing to sacrifice half a fleet.” Soren deducted plainly, “Considering we didn’t lose any men on the field today, I’ll take that victory over the rest.”

“Humble words; I like it,” Flavia grinned, “I might just yet have to convince you after the war to come to Regna Ferox to become _my_ tactician.”

“I’m certain this won’t be the last attempt on the matter, huh?” Soren regarded, “I remember you tried vexingly after the last war.”

Flavia merely laughed, “Maybe I’ll have a better chance after a third then.”

“Ooh, a third war??” Piped Henry, somehow resisting Gaius’s attempts to choke hold him, “Count me in if that’s the case.”

“She’s joking.” Tharja flatly informed. There was a visible crack in Henry’s smile, his mouth dropping to form a pout, that which could even rival Nowi’s infamous pouts. Despite her immortality, her appearance of a child and childlike attitude made it easier for others to treat her as such. Was Henry going to be following in those footsteps as well.

It was enough with one.

The next following minutes was spent reassessing their location and the Shepherds that carried off the mission to dry off from the frigid waters. Tharja had left to retrieve Sully, insisting she was the only one strong enough to pull away Gaius from the chokehold he had Henry in. It’d only have two ways of ending; Gaius would succeed while Sully cheered him on or Sully threatening him with laps around a town when they would reach Valm. 

Soren stood now, a blanket clothed over his shoulders and pressed against his nose while he overlooked the hellish scene ahead. Plumes of ash blanketed the sky black from the residual fires that resisted being put out by the ocean’s waves. Hundreds of ships had sunk below with only clothes and charred planks floating above as evidence of their existence. People were once on those ships—despite them having been the enemy—Soren had wished there could be a better outcome than all this bloodshed. Perhaps Valm was like Plegia—ravaged for ages by civil unrest, usurps of the monarchy, bandits, religion diversity, cultural diversities.Somehow, the more Soren pondered upon it, the more he found that Walhart and Gangrel seemed to invoke a different approach to the conquering of an entire nation. Gangrel invoked his people’s anger and fear from the past war damages Ylisse had inflicted on them. To demand retribution and take it at any costs. Walhart’s goal seemed….to be a double standard. To seize the entirety of a country, to stand united under a single goal—he grew curious. If the goal was to unite the country—why take it by force?

“You seem lost, Soren.” Heavy steps clambered beside Soren, belonging none other to Chrom. For the most part he seemed to have dried off, bits of sand clinging to the collar of his shirt. His bangs clung awkwardly together, noticing when the prince briefly combed his hair how it resisted to break away. Allowing for his observation skills to drop, he turned to face Chrom.

“Not lost on our objective at hand, however.” Soren teased, smirking lightly, “Maybe…lost in thoughts is the better argument at hand.”

“It was the only one to begin with.” Chrom acknowledged knowingly. He joined at Soren’s side, resting his crossed arms against the railing to peer out into the flame wreckage cast out at sea. “I had no doubt that your plan would have succeeded out here—but I can only imagine it was a chilling reminder of why we’re out here.”

“…You’re absolutely right…” Soren found the words gone from his lips, surprised to see Chrom’s intuition playing off, “How did—”

“I’m thinking about it too, to be honest.” Chrom unsheathed his Falchion, pressing a hand to the back of the blade, a heavy weight lingering in his gaze, “Not only do we have another war at hand, we have the weight of the entire future in our hands. Lucina had only been able to tell me so much of what she knew—it was all rumors—retellings and accounts of what happened the night that…”

Soren found himself unable to swallow that realization—suddenly—a memory clicking in his head.

_“Hey, hey, are you all right?” The dark rings that swallowed his vision whole, that offered mere glimpses of Chrom’s bent figure in front of him. Concerned--worried while pain shot through his systems. Red veins pulsed through his vision, a rhymthic pumping flowing through his ears. It grew louder and louder—a heartbeat. It was his heartbeat—it was blocking out Chrom’s voice. What was he trying to ask him?_

_He found his hand reaching up, putting a hand to his chest to push him away. Something was wrong—Chrom don’t—_

_Lightning drew form from his other hand, raising and striking forward with vicious intent right through Chrom’s abdomen. Time seemed to slow as Chrom’s face consorted from shock into merciless agony. His grasp upon the bolt of electricity released slowly, Chrom’s body staggering back with short gasps escaping his lips._

_“Don’t—it’s—this is not your fault—” The man, his dear friend, struggled to explain, “Promise me, you’ll escape from this place, please…”_

_Go._

_The world rocked when Chrom fell on his knees, his eyes rolling up towards the ceiling before falling forward to the ground. He felt himself moving away—the pulsing red veins constricting over his gaze, finding his hand shooting forward in a desperate attempt to head towards the fallen body. He halted when he found the electricity still pulsating along the tips of his exposed fingers._

_No._

_No!_

_NO!_

_A throb escaped again—his head—splintering—GODS WHAT WAS THIS._

The shattering imagery almost overshadowed the reality of where he was, his eyes glazing down towards the tides below. Someone was talking to him—it sounded blurred and alien.

“Have you ever felt like the world was watching your every move?” Chrom’s question rung clearly in Soren’s ear, the young tactician’s eyes sweeping to the side to see the young lord alive and well. No signs of blood—Soren went as far as slipping his hand into his cloak to ensure he didn’t have his tomes on his body, “Soren?”

“Every day Chrom,” Soren admitted, sweat threatening to spill down his temple, “That’s how I feel every day. The weight of the world is resting on our shoulders. Sometimes they feel like they shift more onto me…but other days I feel like I’m not doing enough to support you.” He glanced over to the concentrated youth, “You’re the Shepherds moral guidance. Without you, the Shepherds wouldn’t be able to keep going. You are the voice of reason to keep us going—to believe that winning a war such as this is possible.”

“That may be so, but moral alone can’t do it.” Chrom gripped his shoulder, squeezing, “Your plans have saved many of our lives countless times. They’re efficient…though sometimes they can be considered insane.” Chrom smiled teasingly, Soren scoffing as he casted his attention off to the horizon of the ocean. The beating that rung in his ears was dying down and he exhaled in relief, glad that the moment was drifting off as soon as it came.

“I know I’m a little mad—but I get the results.” Soren played at, earning a chuckle to escape from Chrom’s direction, the older man patting his shoulder blade before resuming to cross his arms lazily over the railings. The well-meaning smile remained on Soren’s face till the lingering memory resurfaced, a somber spell falling over in place. It seemed all too coincidence for his memories and the events that followed to not be connected. There was something bigger at hand and despite his best intentions, he had a terrible suspicion that it would spiral out of his control. He needed a second opinion, he needed the trust and reassurance that whatever may happen there would be a plan to stop it. His face scrunched, recalling Reon’s presence, the dreams of the woman he deemed to be his mother, of the terrible beast. They were connecting to who he is…and what he may become if he doesn’t act now.

“Chrom…I think there’s something I need to tell you.” Soren began.

“Tell me what?” Chrom faced Soren, his demeanor changing to match Soren’s, “Is something wrong, Soren?”

“I think so—I think—I think it has to do with—” Soren was interrupted by the slam of a pair of doors opening, the two young men turning to find Basilio’s large structure striding towards them. Close behind was Seelie, the lavender hair dark knight from Regna Ferox. It was some time since he had last seen her, he didn’t even know she was joining the journey to Valm. The young woman seemed to have notice the tactician’s stare, briefly offering a wave and a smile at his direction. Soren briefly waved back, only to focus upon Basilio’s determined walk to them.

“There’s something we need to discuss about, boy.” Basilio regarded.

Chrom shut his eyes, slowly resuming to face his front towards the see. Soren wasn’t too surprised over his luck or the timing of it all. Chrom cracked one eye open, lips pressed tightly in a suppressed sigh that threatened to let loose. Soren could only shake his head, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder, reassuring Chrom on the matter, “I’ll tell you after. Don’t worry, it’s not of grave importance at the moment.”

“Don’t let me forget, or else I’ll suddenly remember when I’m an old man.” Chrom relented, his shoulders slouching and allowing for that heavy sigh to expel. His attention averted to Basilio’s tilting his head slightly, “What happened?”

“Word from our spies say that this harbor is already nailed in shut with the Valmese army. They set up a line of defense on the streets, despite there still being civilians trapped within their own household.” Basilio informed, hands firm at his sides, “I’m not sure if the best strategy is to hit this one without some form of retaliation.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have the element of surprise any longer on our side,” Soren noted, “We already made our presence well known from the battle at sea.”

“Soren’s right. Besides, this is the closest port in the next few hundred miles.” Chrom added, “If we continue to skirt around the coast of Valm, we’d only be wasting time and rations that will soon be depleted.”

Basilio sighed, rubbing along his neck, “I hear you, but I also have to think about my men. If that was the case and we do make port here, we’re going to have to leave a good portion behind to protect these docks. Leaving us at a severely high disadvantage.”

That was true, Soren hadn’t delved into the details of making port here in Valm. They would need a secure line to be able to get aid sent here from Ylisse and Regna Ferox. Basilio had a right to be concerned. At least a quarter of their men would have to voluntarily stay behind to secure the safety of the harbor. If they were to—they would begin to be stretched thinly in a continent they weren’t used to. It was a dangerous game to play but it wasn’t unfamiliar. They already experimented with similar tactics in Plegia after conquering major cities when headed to face off against Gangrel. Soren brushed along his chin, humming softly, almost tempted to walk off in order to get a map. He needed to be sure and plan something for the occasion now.

“It’s a sacrifice we’re going to have to make, Basilio. I trust the army that we’ve gathered here thus far in order to win this war.” Chrom crossed his arms upon one another, “Even if we divide our army, I still believe with Soren’s expertise we’ll have the battleground in our favor.”

“You have to consider the possibility this could go sour—” Basilio’s words rang dry in his mouth, earning Soren’s cautious attention. When met with a wayward gaze past him, Soren and several others who were lingering on the deck found themselves turning in the direction. A startled gasp escaped from most when they began to line the railings of the ship. Past the rolling fog drifting up from the ocean, there finally seemed to be a sign of landfall. Cliffsides grew larger in scale and offered ridges of white and sandy, drifting in each direction, glimpses of rolling hills and greenery being exposed. At the edge of the cliff however, there seemed a city flamed—almost reminiscent to the ocean the Ylisseans sacrificed half of their fleet for.

Lucina reached for the railings, peering out towards the shore land, clicking her teeth, “By the Gods, what happened here?” The city must have been ravaged and pillaged the night before, judging from the smoke trial it left behind in the sky. Charred pieces of plaster and walls remained erect or crumbled against the slight touch of the wind, barely anything left to show what once stood there. Chrom and Soren shared a glance with each other, a grim expression settling in place. Basilio huffed, crossing his arms boldly against his chest.

“See, this is what I was trying to get at.” Basilio gestured to the charred city, “If we make our presence known, towns like this could be set ablaze just cause we’re there. I’m sure this Walhart doesn’t play fair like that dirty Gangrel.”

“He’s worse, Khan Basilio.” Cherche seemed to part through the crowds, her grave look in her eyes as she scanned the remains of the city, “Rebel activities is all he needs to know to set entire cities ablaze like this. Perhaps someone had crossed through it days before and now they suffer the price. It’s cruel…a monster that will crush anything that steps in his way.”

 “This conqueror thinks he’s doing this for the good of the people?” Basilio questioned with a loud scoff, “What a load of dung.”

“There’s nothing we can do here, unfortunately,” Flavia expressed, having joined the form group, watching the plumes of smoke escape into the air, “We have to keep moving and get to the harbor as fast as possible. How long will it take?”

“It’d take about another twenty minutes ma’am!” A shipmate called out.

Soren pressed his lips together and looked to the others, the crew on board standing upon the railing and holding ropes to keep steady. They could only watch with a lingering fear etched upon their young and old faces. This could happen to them at any moment now that they were about to enter the land of our enemy. Soren pressed away, parting ways with those that remained on the deck to the lower deck. Wordlessly passing those that asked what was the commotion about, he drew to his belongings and opened his notebooks, preparing and refreshing his mind for whatever they may have to face. It took precisely as long as the shipmate had estimated, the shouts of orders to bring back the sails. Soren had to wretch himself away from his materials in order to run up the stairs, catching sight of the Valm Harbor a few hundred feet away. The ship was close enough to the port but on Soren’s insistence, a small scout party was sent ahead to ensure that the Valmese weren’t about to counter them with a surprise attack.

“At last, Valm Harbor.” The ocean breeze settled along Soren’s neck, the rumble of the ship docking emitting trembles against the grains of sand under his feet. Chrom joined along his side, an exhale escaping from his lips, “It looks heavily fortified to say the least.”

Barricades lined the staircases that lead up to the town, iron spikes emerged from each one. The windows seemed shuttered shut with nailed planks over the windows and doors. Glancing over to the rest of the city, it seemed tame, with the curtains tugged shut over the windows and doors most likely secured from the inside. It seemed the army had set a secured location within the harbor judging by how heavily set up one section of the town compared to another was. Soren knelt by the bushes that persisted in the sand, overviewing the entrance within the town. They would have to be careful of their entry points judging how it seemed there were still civilians in the vicinity. It was best to probably alert them as early as possible.

“It looks like your spies were right, Basilio.” Chrom acknowledged, the tall dark-skinned man joining at his side.

“I was informed that there’s another Valmese base not too far away from here. If we attack—we need to do it fast. We can’t let any stragglers escape to bring reinforcements.” Basilio added, Chrom expelling a sigh while running a hand through his bangs. A darted glance from Chrom signaled Soren it was time to get to work.

Soren’s gaze followed the path of the beach to the town, making notes of the points of entries and exits that the army can pursue from. The layout opened up like a map in his mind, the chess pieces in the countless games he would play begin to tower from the sand dunes. The moves to make, the sacrifices to avoid, the decisions to make this victory a guarantee. From the staircase to the sides of the bricked buildings, Soren studied the rooftops with pique interest.  The shingles of the rooftops seemed to be made of tiles, easy to dispose for a better footing of the roof. They could get someone up there for an aerial advantage of the enemies below.  Virion would be essential in the execution of his plan, knowing the archer’s aim was second to none. With Gaius assisting with a bow of his own, they would be able to shoot down any pegasi or mages that would challenge their own. All they would need is an opening into one of the houses then…

“We may need to go door to door to see how the civilians are doing here then.” Soren mentioned off-handedly, crossing his arms while pinching his chin in thought, “If we can reassure them that we’re not here to cause harm, they may help us in the long run and offer valuable information against the Valmese army.”

“You don’t think they’d be more prone to shut their doors to us?” Flavia challenged the idea, “Especially after what Cherche said about the razed town. I can only imagine word has reached a town as such. They’d probably be too spooked to open their doors.”

“It’s worth a try.” Chrom defended, “If we can gain the locals approval, it’d be easier to set up a base for the harbor.”

Soren’s eyes darted to the left, acknowledging the remaining scouting group that was to join them. Gaius, Miriel, Tharja, and Virion walked towards their direction seemingly lost in a discussion that had Gaius’s brows raised the entire time. Stahl and Sully were caught grinning from a quick glance, Lon’qu and the ever persistent Cherche close behind, and Lucina seemed in the midst of strolling to them.

“They’re more fearful of the Conqueror’s warpath, I highly doubt they would be against helping you with what means they could offer.” Lucina offered her insight, earning Basilio and Flavia’s gander, “When I was here last I was assisted by a few that would have easily sacrificed their lives in order to escape Valm.”

“Hmm, then I can get Seelie to go door to door,” Basilio offered, “She’s friendly enough. Now—” His dark orb scanned to Soren’s face, raising a brow, “Is that the only reason? I think I’m catching onto that look on your face when you have a plan.” It was becoming too obvious to hide that expression of his anymore. The corner of his lips loosened to a line, forcing a cough to shield the impish demeanor from when the others began looking. Chrom immediately caught note of it, smirking lightly earning Soren’s unwishful glance. Instead, Soren took to kneel upon the sandy surface, taking hold of a piece of drift wood and made a large circle below with it.

“I want Gaius and Virion positioned upon the rooftops on that house there, with Tharja and Miriel distracting the enemies from below.” Soren explained, digging the wooden stick along the fine grains of sand, making a makeshift map, “Cherche will ignite the Valmese’s attention with Lon’qu supporting her. Once we have their attention can we infiltrate the alleyways and surprise them from behind and the sides.”

“Then what about the reinforcements?” Lucina piped, earning Soren’s gaze, “If they were to be alerted, this would only draw more attention to the section we would be securing.” Lucina’s observations were sharp, he hadn’t even given a chance to explain his reasonings behind it. A natural smile escaped from his lips, focusing his attention towards the makeshift map, drawing in the reinforcement camp.

“That’s the main reason I want Virion and Gaius on the roofs. Not only would they have an overview of the battles below—if there was someone attempting to warn the others they’ll be struck before long.” Soren explained in further detail, “Since Virion is our sniper, Gaius will have his back in case someone decides to exploit their spot. I thought it was best to offer someone that can still fight with a sword instead of being caught off guard with only a bow in hand.”

“Hmm…I see. I thought it was strange choice but it seems your strategies work off on everyone working off each other.” Lucina observed, noting Soren’s continued work on who he wanted to pair up with in combat and what to do if the situations were to change. He offered several different variations but set with one lock in strategy to keep in mind. Chrom and Flavia offered advice and suggestions for which strategy that was best, but overall, everyone seemed at agreeance with the plan that Soren was to enact for this battle.

“Whelp, looks like we’re going together on this one, Your Lordship.” Gaius teased, arms crossed behind his neck. Virion seemed to have rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“If only we didn’t have to be parted as such, my dear.” Virion flaunted a hand up, pressing it against his chest as if it had been broken. Gaius intensely rolled his eyes, resting an arm upon the duke’s shoulder.

“Keep acting like that and you’ll find out the real reason why you weren’t paired up with your Sunshine.” Gaius teased, flaunting an arrow he had stolen from Virion’s quiver. With some silly mannerisms of stabbing at Virion’s chest, the archer had enough of the teasing nature of the trained assassin. Miriel and Cherche seemed to be observing the spectacle while Soren attempted to ignore the fact that they were his closest friends in the army.

“Then it’s settled. We need an overview of exactly what we’re facing.” Soren regarded. Cherche went over at the sound of this, offering a warm smile and a gesture towards her giant wyvern.

“You can fly with me upon Minerva, Soren. I’m certain you’ll be able to get what you want with us. She’d certainly keep you safe.” Cherche exclaimed, Soren blinking slowly at her. The tactician merely stared at Cherche’s companion, almost frozen in place from the way it’s jaw spread open, revealing its layers of fangs. Something about the wyvern set Soren on edge, perhaps it was all the layers of scales that would prove impossible to penetrate. Even the way it breathed proved unsettling for the young man, almost finding himself taking a step back to create distance.

“No, I remember.” Soren admitted plainly, “I’m just scared of Minerva. No offense Cherche.”

“You should offer your condolences to Minerva, not myself.” Cherche brushed along her wyvern’s neck, “Isn’t that right, Minerva?” Soren didn’t expect the sheer-ear blasting screech that expelled, his ears rattling within his cranium. If Minerva was to screech like that each time, he surely was going to go deaf. He staggered briefly, rubbing his ears with only a silent ouch for comfort. Cherche seemed to smirk from the corner of his eyes and he was possibly debating if he was afraid of the wyvern or her rider.

“I’ll take it as she’s a bit offended with me.” Soren acknowledged, avoiding to rub his ear in front of the wyvern rider. Instead of chancing it with Minerva, he could always survey it from a ground point of view. It was probably preferable considering the last time he did recon in the air, Sumia’s pegasus took such a sharp turn he wasn’t ready for. He almost fell out of the sky if it  wasn’t for Cordelia’s quick thinking. Then the next possibility was to send Cherche in flight in preparation to the battle at hand. If they don’t see them armed with a wyvern, they’d have a advantage over the enemy. He couldn’t send her alone however—Soren catching towards Lon’qu’s direction.

“Lon’qu, I need you to pair up with Cherche.”

“Excuse me?” Lon’qu flatly demanded.

Even Cherche seemed surprised, pulling away from her fixation of brushing along Minerva’s neck. Soren looked sternly at the swordmaster, crossing his arms, “I need you to go with Cherche into combat. I want to prevent the enemy from knowing we have a wyvern rider until the last second. I know you’re already thinking why would I need you for this plan, but it’s to ensure that when Cherche does appear in battle, she’s not taken out a moment later by eager archers.”

“Soren—” Lon’qu didn’t even get to finish as Soren stared pointingly at him.

“I also know /you/ need to work on cooperating efficiently with others.” Soren chided, “I know your adherence to avoiding women is valid but in times like this, I need you to at least try and put the effort in Lon’qu.”

The stoic warrior lips had pressed tightly together, almost annoyed of the suggestion that Soren was making. It wasn’t like he has made the initiative to do so. Several times he had been asked of Chrom to look after his younger sister, Lissa seemingly able to grow on him. Then there was Cordelia’s persistence and set example that eventually won the swordsmaster over to training with her. It was only Olivia that he had prior comfort with. The other women of the group were still…. adversities he needed to conquer in his own time.

Lon’qu’s gaze flickered over to the Rosanne woman, steadily watching her every moment. In returned she simply raised a brow, darting her eyes briefly to Soren direction with a questioning look. It was a bit strange to have them thrown together, especially after overhearing their conversation from the previous nights before.

“Fine.” Lon’qu finally relented, “Just be sure not to touch me.”

“Great!” Soren clapped his hands, turning, “Cherche, are you okay with this?”

“Of course, I don’t see a problem with it, do you Minerva?” With the wyvern screeching in response, Soren swore he had heard Lon’qu muttering that he would if Minerva decided to bite at him. Though, he wasn’t too sure with all the ringing that he was suffering from.

Rubbing a finger against his ear, Soren could only be sure to explain to the two in detail of the plan. An arrow would alert them to enter into the conflict below when the time is right. Leathery wings flapped powerfully, Cherche coaxing Minerva to allow Lon’qu on her back. The swords-master seemed hesitant, grimacing the closer he drew to Minerva. After an expression of what looked like to be sheer will, he forced himself upon the wyvern, Cherche smiling reassuringly beside him. Lon’qu adjusted himself awkwardly, words expelling silently for only Cherche to hear. The young woman seemed to smirk however, offering a few small words when she latched onto the reins. Gripped tightly, Minerva darted upwards, the gust left behind nearly knocking everyone near them down. Soren drew his arm down, watching the beating wings soar boldly into the sky.

“How is it Cherche was merely a servant on your estates?” Soren pressed to question, Virion averting his gaze back to him.

“Ah, my vassal. It’s easy to say why—she has a fondness for cooking and sewing.” Virion quipped, “However, she led valiantly in our homeland, I often feared she would finally have enough of it and lead our army. Not that I would have objected—but Cherche is much more than just a mere warrior. To imagine—she still can look at me even after I had abandoned our country.”

“You left to make sure more of your people wouldn’t have had to die…” Soren recalled carefully, keeping it low enough for the two of them.

“It’s still a cowardice act to commit. My people would have risked their lives easily for someone such as me.” Virion’s glance drifted to the side, a forced smile lingering on his face. Soren frowned, making the note to merely drop the conversation there instead to persist on. Offering a squeeze on the former lord’s shoulder, Soren instead went to double check with everyone to see they were situated with the plan at hand. He caught sight of Lucina and Chrom conversing with each other, glad to see that Lucina was putting herself out there to join in their mission.

“Would you mind if I join you?” Lucina asked Chrom.

“Not at all,” Chrom smiled, “I trust you’ll have my back.”

“Most certainly.” Lucina nodded with a matching smile. She seemed happier, though Soren couldn’t help but notice how tensely she held the handle of her sword. Her fingers curled and tightened along the material, careful in how many times she did so to not draw awareness. It seemed to succeed as Chrom discussed tactics that the two of them would be comfortable in using, regarding how they’d speak to Soren about it when they reach an agreement.

“You seem rather drawn to her….” Soren didn’t realize Virion was watching him, a smirk lingering on his face, “But my…you choose a rather challenging rose. One entwined within a poisonous bush of thorns.”

“…..What?”

“It’s so obvious,” Virion chuckled all knowingly, waving a hand, “My friend, if you are to win her heart, you’ll have to handle it with care. Not only is she Chrom’s daughter, but a terrible responsibility burdens her shoulders.”

Win her heart, what did he mean by that—

It processed with a click, Soren’s eyes widen and his cheeks warmed at the very idea Virion was insinuating. The plans he had been formulating disappeared briefly, distracted over Virion’s latest tease. It wasn’t the first time he had done this, initially teasing Soren that perhaps Panne or Cordelia were interested in the tactician. However, he didn’t feel as personally affected by the comments then…so why now??

 “Virion, don’t be ridiculous.” Soren chided briskly, “I respect Lucina as a comrade, just like the others.”

“Oh ho, then maybe I’ll have to get Stahl the next time to prove my theory.” Virion seemed to be getting back to his normal self, much to Soren’s chargin, “Though…it’s not to say she’s not looking either.”

Soren scoffed lowly at the idea, unable to stop himself from glimpsing over to her direction once more. She still seemed deep in conversation with Chrom, sincere in her answers though firm to object to some of the ideas that her father presented. It was still strange to see her in this new light, no matter how many times he repeated it in his head. She was no longer a mysterious enigma to solve but as an ally that bore ties with his closest friend. That should’ve been enough for him, to accept that there shouldn’t be much more to her than a precious comrade with a vendetta against those that caused her future. For a moment his chest strained, unable to understand why he felt…discouraged. It wasn’t his place to say—he’s merely a tactician.

“Soren, can we get your opinion?” Lucina requested.

“….Uh, yes. I’ll be there in a moment.” Soren briskly glanced to Virion, grimacing at the sight of the grinning archer. By Naga, he was going to put Virion on the front line one day to merely spite him. This was preposterous. There was no way. No.

Soren made his way to begin explaining the plan out to everyone, taking in their points and adjusting accordingly. It was good to know the army seemed well adjusted with Soren’s expectations, sometimes he didn’t need to explain himself that much anymore. It was reassuring to see how fluid they were growing as a unit. Once Chrom and Flavia discussed the priority of securing the town, Soren gave the command to move out. Those on foot snuck to the barricades, careful in their pursuit to secure the street. Many rounded at the base of streets, pressing their shoulders against the wall to view further ahead. Soren viewed from the trenches of the sand, Virion close by his side. From their new angle, they were able to see the entirety of the troop that was based here in the harbor. A few mages, knights, great knights, paladins—

Nothing they would be able to handle.

The moment Soren was to call out for the signal—he noticed the opposing army shift and divide. Men pointed with weapons raised in the direction of the other section of town. He crouched back down onto his knee, examining the situation unfolding. It was too fast to catch the direction several of their foot soldiers darted off to. It seemed there was an opposition already growing within the city. Perhaps it was the rebel forces Cherche had mentioned prior to docking in the port.

“The troops are changing positioning, but what are they after…?” Soren observed, fixing his position for a better view. Virion watched from besides, viewing the spiraling scene through a spyglass. Judging by the frown and a trail of sweat that began to build up along his brow, it was a tense situation.

“It seems they are in pursuit of someone—a woman it seems.” Virion described, “She’s dressed in an article of clothing I’m not certain—no—I recognize this, she’s of Chon’sin descent.”

“Chon’sin?” Soren repeated.

“Yes, a country here in Valm. They’re a kingdom known highly for their swordmasters and assassins. It was peaceful—but I can only imagine Walhart stormed the nation.” Virion explained briskly, intently following after the woman’s movement.  It wasn’t long before the chase could be seen from their hiding spot.

“An altercation?” Frederick regarded.

The woman was quick in her pursuit against the Valmese, leaping from a crate of boxes backwards, dodging over the guard to attack from behind. It was clear she was a master swordsman, graceful in her form but powerful in her strikes. She clashed her sword against the knights that drove in her direction, precise in her movements to stagger and leave a lethal opening for herself. A lot of her techniques actually reminded Soren of Lon’qu. Perhaps Lon’qu was originally from Chon’sin as well. Soren clicked his teeth, standing alongside Frederick as he held the reins to his horse, lance gripped tightly in the other hand.

“That woman—the Valmese dogs are running her down.” Frederick reported.

“An enemy of our enemy is our friend.” Chrom regarded, unsheathing is sword, “Soren, do you see a way through this? I know it may be a little out of the lines of your plan…”

“No, it’s fine—saving her life is more important at the moment. We’ll just have to be safe about it…” Soren bit at his gloved thumb, eyes scanning the unit that pursued the woman. They would corner her at the rate they were going if they didn’t do something soon.

“Virion.” Virion needed no further explanation, his bow raised and poised for the shot, a smirk lingering on his face.

“Oh, you need to make use of me to save a damsel in distress. It’d be my own pleasure.” Virion’s ego was expanding at a hasten pace that even Cherche would have trouble deflating. Even if she came crashing down from up above. Soren darted his eyes over to him, lips quirking.

“Virion please, focus. Hit the guard and the flank of the Black Knight’s horse. Hold until I say.”  Soren commanded, focusing his attention on the quarrel.

The woman darted, attempting to maneuver past the corner she was being pushed to. Her sword clashed wildly, sparks escaping as her ebony hair spun, blood splashing into the air from the fatal cuts she inflicted on her enemies. They gained further ground against her though, the black knight pulling from the rear with his tome alit. Catching sight of it, she leapt against the wall of a building and kicked off, just barely dodging the explosion meant for her.

“Fire!” The arrow flew blindly, Virion’s arm swinging back to reach for the next, letting lose another. The arrows hit their targets, the knight falling off his horse, the guard having raised his shield in time to have blocked the arrow. The woman took advantage of the confusion, backflipping from her landing to pierce through the neck slot of the guard, twisting the blade in place to confirm her kill.

“Our first priority is to head in and save that woman.” Chrom ordered, Soren nodding in agreement, a flame building upon his lap from his tome. “Virion, signal Cherche.”

Soren alit his tome, flames dancing along the tips of his fingers as Virion held an arrow over the flames, allowing the tip to catch aflame and directed it towards the sky, firing it. Soren took the moment, taking the residual of the flame and casted it forward, the spell exploding at the backs of the Valmese guards. Several got blown off their feet, others hid behind the line of knights that caught wind of the attack before it landed. Moving from their line of cover, some soldiers charged in their direction, swords raised for combat. It would be for naught though, Soren smirking over the shriek of the wyvern above. A soldier had stopped, barely gazing up when the beast crashed down before the group of charging men, Lon’qu’s body swinging off the side Minerva, poised for a lethal confrontation. It was the distraction they needed, perfectly executed.

“Charge!” Chrom’s orders boomed, a choir of men’s shouts echoing off as the Ylissean and Feroxi forces charged out into the open to confront the Valmese troop. It was almost too easy to expose their weakness once divided, the enemy forces attempting to rally with each other before they grew too distant in combat. Soren grinned, patting at Virion’s shoulder and beckoned for the archer to follow.

 “All right, Gaius, Tharja, with me!” Soren signaled for the others to go, Chrom leading the charge with Frederick and Lucina at his side. With Gaius grinning toothily, commenting over the sweet entrance Cherche made, Tharja seemed ready for combat as she took out an archer before he could strike them.

“Pay attention, I don’t need to clean up your messes.” Tharja warned, Gaius rolling his eyes.

“Sorry Sunshine, promise I won’t do it again.” He was crossing two fingers together behind his back. Soren rolled his eyes at the bantering, instead, focused upon the growing battle that took place in front of them.

“Come on, let’s go save that woman.” Soren insisted.

It wasn’t exactly what Soren had expected for the battle to commence, but it was the step in the right direction. Looking across their faces and receiving affirmative nods from each one, Soren lead the trio into the combat ridden field, ready to take Valmese by storm.


	27. Ardor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was going to get this out soon, past me said. 
> 
> It was already a few pages in, past me whispered. 
> 
> I could easily have it done if I just sat down for a few hours, past me thought. 
> 
> ...........Ha, what life said, hahahahahhahaha. 
> 
> Well, it's here. Very late but it's here. I'm kind of brain-dead here, been dealing with a lot of doubles, life issues, and well -w- getting sick with a stomach flu. So that's been fun. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and until next time, enjoy!

“Arc-fire!”

Flames exploded in controlled spaces, swords clashing and spells barreling across the cobblestone street. Valmese troops fortified what they could from the surprise attack, clearly overwhelmed from the initial charge of Cherche and Lon’qu’s combined efforts. Walls of knights lined alleyways, shields raised while they protected their comrades firing from behind. Many didn’t stand a chance against the swift swordsman, watching as he had darted on top of crates and against walls to clash against the enemy forces from behind. If it wasn’t him—it certainly was Minerva sweeping her tail against the floor, ferociously snapping against the closest guard that came to her and tossing him across the street. Cherche gave no mercy for him to run, hauling a heavy axe above her head before providing him an instant release.

Chrom, Flavia, and Basilio led the charge directly to them—contesting against the Generals that attempted to rally their men. Chrom already knew how to handle a battle like this, Soren didn’t even need to worry for the young King any longer. Chrom collided in locked combat, easily disarming and taking down those that came in his way. What he didn’t catch from behind, Lucina had his back, easily disarming any foes that came her way. Basilio provided much-needed aid, swinging his axe with ease against even the most trained swordsman, cutting a line of them down. Basilio’s hearty laughter rung from down the alleyways, ringing into the ears of the teams that divided off for their own tasks.

Hasty in their task, Soren gave a quick scan of the area before gesturing the others to follow suit. Gaius, Tharja and Virion remained adjacent at his side, packed in tightly to avoid being caught in an unfavorable position. The task was simple—meet up with Seelie, the Feroxi knight who should have made an entryway to the rooftops. She scouted ahead of the others before Lon’qu and Cherche were sent out, with any luck accomplishing the task provided to her. Now the only problem was getting to her—

_ZINK_

Another straggler fell to Virion’s accuracy, the four quickly moving past the carcass, Soren retrieving the arrow from the body, tossing them back to Virion.

“Ya know, despite all the fighting that’s going on, you gotta teach me how you can make that mark, Your Lordship.” Gaius said to Virion, jogging close behind the bluenette. Virion poised readily for the next attack, another arrow let lose as a mage came into view. The seal under his feet barely formed before the arrow sliced through his neck, silencing him, “I mean, you’re making this look like it’s a game. Didn’t think you had the practice in you, considering how dainty you look.”

“Well, it _has_ derived from practice.” Virion acknowledged, though pressing to hide the irritation from the last remark, “Many years of practice, defending my country, and showing off for beautiful women have led me here.”

“Huh,” Gaius leaned against the wall briefly, a hand sticking into the inner folds of his scarf to remove a wrapped lollipop, “How are we not dead then?”

“Tch!” Virion’s aim veered from the insult, hitting a swordsman in the shoulder when he came into view. The enemy reeled in pain and shouted, drawing his sword to confront the duo ahead. Gaius noticed, reacting quickly with a pull of his sword. He shoved Virion out of the general direction, clashing swords with the enemy and engaging. Soren went to reach for his tome when he caught sight of the dark mage pose for combat. Her arms crossed over one another rhythmically, a violet inscription glowing at the base of her feet. The enemy made a move to slash against Gaius’s defense when a murky puddle caught his feet. Perplexed over the situation, it only grew worse when tentacles rose from the darkness, dragging his body down into the pit with nothing but a petrified scream. Gaius was left looking downwards, lips pressing together in a slight grimace at the scene.

“Well, that’s one way of doing it.” Gaius pensively admitted.

 “You’re both making this so much harder than it has to be.” A clap of her tome, Tharja strolled forward past Gaius and Virion, Soren stopping between the space, “If you keep acting like that, surely, it’s going to jeopardize the mission and if I dare see a missing strand of hair off of Soren’s head—”

“Jeezes, keep it in your pants—or tights Tharja.” Gaius rolled his eyes, resting his arm on Soren’s shoulder, pushing the weight on him, “We get it.  We’re not gonna pop Bubbles here.” He began poking his cheek to prove a point. Soren bared his teeth, Gaius smirking in retaliation, “What, going to bite me? Didn’t think you’re into that stuff.”

“I swear, Gaius, stop.” Soren pressed his lips together, pushing a hand to Gaius’s face to shove him off. Tharja seemed to watch carefully, a long hum emitting from her direction. If Soren knew any better, she was probably preparing to curse Gaius again. How many times has it been now—six? Seven? He’s lost count at this point—he kept mixing it up with how many times Virion had been cursed for the sake of love.

“Alas, I aim to only impress you, Tharja, you have my word we’ll keep our dear friend Soren safe from harm’s way.” Virion boosted, Soren and Gaius equally taking a moment to turn their head towards him. At the sound of her name, Tharja stared at Virion’s direction with an intent that dabbled between a malicious curse or plain curiosity. Soren caught on to detail flourishing the further Virion persisted. She almost smirked at the comment this time—he really was improving at breaking her shell. However, Gaius seemed oblivious to the small note.

“Man, you need to take a hint.” Gaius deadpanned at his direction, “And you need new pick up lines, that one was _terrible._ Do you tell that to all the women you meet? _”_

“I’ll have you know I treat all the women out there with the upmost grace and dignity, after all they deserve it. Tharja, however, is a step above the others.” Virion flashed a winning grin; Gaius regretting having brought up this conversation in the first place.

“All right, enough you guys.” Soren cut in between, “Seelie should be around one of these hallways with an access way through a building. Now I need you both to focus, especially you, Virion. If you don’t, it’ll no doubt affect our next game of chess.”

“Oh, pray tell, how do you expect that sort of result?” Virion inquired with a raised brow.

“For one it’s harder to play with one arm.” Gaius joked and Soren couldn’t resist the grin that snuck upon his lips. Virion’s demeanor dropped, a flush of anger sweeping across his cheeks.

“How rude—I’ll have you know—”

“Okay, enough, this is serious.” Soren pressed his hands against their chests, lightly pushing them away, “Come on, the rendezvous point with Seelie is close by.”

“You mean the Plegian Knight?” Her monotone question seemed to hide something.

“How did you know she was Plegian, Tharja?” Soren hadn’t mentioned Seelie’s background to anyone. It seemed only months ago that she even revealed the information to him. Tharja seemed to hit the nail right on the target without trying. She even rolled her eyes briefly at his naivety, plucking at her nails to rid of some grime.

“Please, she radiates it off her being.” Tharja regarded.

Is it that common to tell who is from where? Somehow the way Tharja phrased it didn’t sit well with the tactician.

The four ventured down the pathway, clearing through the archways that led to the town center. A marble fountain had been cracked and spewed water along the ashen tiles of the street. The streets were divided between the Ylissean and Valmese forces, each side taking out one from another. Gaius leaned over the wall, observing the majority of the combat with a click of his tongue with Soren and Virion beside. Tharja was the only one that objected to crouching, rather standing close to the walls.

“It’s a gods damn nightmare out here.” Gaius remarked, “Bubbles, you think that girl is even _alive_ —”

“RAGH!” A shine of silver escaped from the mighty swing of Seelie’s polearm, cutting down enemies and knocking those that dared come against her. She swung with the grace of a dancer, elegant and proficient. Each strike was coordinated for the next attack, a flowing number in which this knight was born to partake. She made it look effortless on swinging her axe, charging one swing over her head to ram it down upon a lance—shattering the rod and gorging the blade into the knight’s body.

Soren grimaced at the brutality—almost taken aback from the tentative and almost sweet disposition she offered to him during his time in Regna Ferox. It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did—she was a Feroxi warrior after all. Lon’qu was no different—but the way she looked upon the battlefield, something seemed…off.

A dry heave escaped from Virion, a fist shielding over his mouth and puffing out his cheeks. His eyes gave away the repulsed strain it detained and only begrudgingly convince itself that this what had to be done. Swallowing whatever it was he held he attempted to lighten the mood once the knight finished the last enemy, “Clearly she’s holding her own, Gaius.”

“You could say that again. I don’t think even Vaike goes that hard on the battlefield.” Gaius agreed, his posture leaning back. Tharja’s position didn’t alter from the vicious display, instead she seemed more frontal. Her fingers curled and coaxed against the lining of her tome, brows drawing closer and her lips pressing together in a scowl.

At this, Seelie finally acknowledged their presence, her entire demeanor eclipsing the former she held in combat, “You’re all here—that’s reassuring.”

“Of course, wouldn’t go croaking in a middle of a good fight, Gumdrop.” Gaius said.

At the sound of the nickname did Seelie furrow her brows together, pouting slightly, “Gum drop? Are you referring to me?"

“Yeah, your hair looks like candy—hence gumdrops.”

“It’s a compliment if he gives you a nickname—he hasn’t told me otherwise.” Soren validated.

“Maybe it’s because you’re not ready to handle the truth.” Gaius teased, ruffling his hair and Soren was quick to get his tome to smack his hands away, “Easy easy—don’t let me pop your bubble—”

“ _Gaius.”_

Seelie observed with a smile, although she cleared her throat, earning everyone’s attention. She turned to the building beside her with a gesture of her arm, “Here’s the access you need, I managed to convince the family to evacuate to somewhere safer.”

 “Seelie, you’re a life-saver. Thank you.” Soren praised.

“Of course, I’ll do my best to support the cause, and you, Soren.” She smiled sincerely, gesturing with a bow, “Excuse me now, I must rejoin the Khans in battle.” Grasping her mighty polearm, Seelie took a steady charge to head back to the conflict, easily blocking and avoiding spells. Gaius whistled lowly at the sight, scratching at his neck. Tharja on the other hand remained with scowl on her lips. Enough to warrant Virion’s attention.

“What’s the matter, my dear Tharja—”

“I don’t like her.” Tharja plainly acknowledge, enough for Gaius to roll his eyes and chuckle.

“I don’t think you like anyone that maybe have an interest in Soren,” Gaius teased, “You already managed to scare Cordelia a good measure with that curse of yours.”

Soren had to do a double take, “When Cordelia suddenly knocked down everything in the armory—THAT WAS YOU.”

Tharja remained with a blank expression, her eyes slowly shifting to Gaius. If looks could kill, Gaius should have been dead on the ground by now. Instead, her attention slipped back to Soren, “……No, of course not. I’m certain Sumia was there….” Tharja picked at the sides of her robes, “Come on you two.”

“Uh, Sunshine—I believe it was only Virion and I that was supposed to go up—” Gaius halted on his words as Tharja turned with a shadowy expression, an all-knowing smirk and a chuckle that sent shivers down a spine.

“I don’t trust you guys up there alone to handle something so vital, so I’m coming along. No excuses.” She answered directly, traversing up the staircase ahead of the other two men. The three seemed to share a glance, shrugging briefly.

“Maybe we should take it as a sign that she cares for both of you?” Soren inquired with a shrug.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I take sinister chuckles as an answer.” Gaius acknowledged, “I think she’s going to try and hex me while we’re up there. And not the good kinds.”

“If she was smart enough, maybe she would.” Soren stared at him, “Don’t pop your bubble— _really._ And you complained to Virion about the jokes.”

“Hey, I had a better delivery of it.” Gaius defended, ignoring both the former lord and tactician’s stare, “Whatever, come on Your Lordship, can’t keep Sunshine waiting.” He took to the doorway with Virion trailing close behind.

“Be careful you two—” Soren’s warning was cut short, an explosion of flames fanning out from where they stood. Virion luckily hid from the majority of it, peeking his head through the crack of the door to catch the tactician having dodged most of the blow, covered in ashes along his robes.

“Soren! Are you all right?!”  

“Yeah,” Soren coughed roughly into his sleeves, “Go! Don’t worry about me! I got these guys!”

The tactician bolted from the spot he recovered, narrowly avoiding another spell casted towards his direction. Soren had ducked by a propped cart, his back pressing against the wooden frame, drawing close to the combat at hand. The sound of spells breaking and shattering the very foundation of the street echoed loudly, the tactician counting down on the beats each spell took to die down and fire again. Once he got an accurate count did he bolt from his hiding position, throwing an arm out.

“Arc-thunder!”

Bolts of electricity exploded in front of the line of Valmese troops, some immediately falling victim to the strong cast of magic. Soren smirked, taking the advantage of the smog to make his escape into another alley, his coat flinging wildly behind him. He was careful not to enter into a new corridor without a quick observation, catching sight of the battles that were in full blow down the streets. Not a moment later did he catch a familiar face, the woman kneeling down and adjusting her glasses, her gaze fixating on the tactician. Her hat wilted forward, an irritated gruff escaping as she pushed it forward.

“I see I’m not the only one calculating the variables of this situation.” Miriel acknowledged the tactician’s presence, nodding a greeting, “I perceive you’ve separated from the other three?”  

“Tharja thought it was best to protect Virion and Gaius—” An explosion knocked close to where the duo was standing, both crouching closer in order to hear one another speak, “—I’m sure they’ll be fine!”

“If the recusant dark mage is attending them, then I believe their chances are fair.” Miriel grunted when another spell bombarded towards their directions, “however our chances are very scant.”

“Wait, where’s Vaike?” Soren pressed, recalling the blonde warrior joining Miriel into combat, “Wasn’t he partnered with you?”

At the sound of his name, Miriel rolled her eyes, “The buffoon ran to assist Lon’qu and Cherche down the road—insisting he couldn’t leave his ‘partner’ to have all the fun to himself.”

Soren blinked slowly, “Judging by your tone you don’t seem exactly pleased with that.”

“Sometimes his ‘instincts’ are too preposterous to follow. I had to hole myself here when he took off running—I’ve been studying the enemies’ strategies ever since.” She adjusted her glasses, “It’s nothing I cannot handle—but it would have been easier with a distraction.”

“I can create that distraction,” Soren offered, “I may not do as well of a job that Vaike can but I think I can garner their attention long enough to execute a counter attack.” Miriel merely observed Soren, her lips quirking on a fine line between a scowl or an opportunity.

“Reckless endangerment of one’s self in order to provide a blow to an enemy?” Miriel summed up, ‘You may need to rethink your tactics from time to time if you’re insistent to remain the Shepherd’s tactician.”

“I don’t do it _all_ the time.” Soren acknowledged, drumming his fingers against his knee, “Today won’t be the day where it’ll fail me now.”

“For only so long will that luck run its course,” Miriel warned, jabbing a tome towards his direction. He nearly fell back from how close it got to his face. At that sudden reaction did Miriel smile, clasping the tome to her chest, “But if you insist—be prepared to engage them.”

“Always,” Soren peered through the small opening he had, catching sight of the Valmese army reassemble at the end of the cobble street, almost ready for a retreat. The mages had drawn a line towards the center of the street, directing their attention towards their hiding spot. They couldn’t break formation—no wonder Miriel had been safe here as long as she had been. Soren clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, producing the tome from his robes and carefully flipped it open. A wind spell should cast enough confusion to allow the tactician a closer approach. He crouched with a steady stance, a green aura building around his feet—then sprinted out into the open.

“What the—men get ready he’s coming!”

“Arc-wind!” Gales escaped from Soren’s direction, slashing the tiles from which he fled from. It exploded out towards the line of mages but several managed to leap out of the way. A single one managed to take the blunt of the attack, but when he lowered his arms did the sigils of a spell reveal itself.

“Thoron!” Soren’s eyes widen, kicking at the ground to escape from the mighty explosion of lightning that focused at his direction. Glass shattered from the building behind him, Soren shielding himself as he ran for cover on the opposite side, panting heavily over the sudden run. That was a powerful spell—surely Valm would have tomes and rarity of this magnitude hiding somewhere. Soren panted lightly, eyes averting to the spot he had ran from—seeing the tip of Miriel’s hat dropping forth. Not yet—the mages would still see her if she was to get from that spot.

“All right—one more time.” Soren heaved himself from the spot, charging back out into the open with an arm shielding himself from the line of magic being sent his way. Simple fire and thunder spells lashed out towards his direction but he had grown nimble, sweeping out of the direction where the heaviest blows would take impact. What his concern was focused upon was the mage in charge—the one with the thoron tome.

“Arc-wind!” Once again, the winds cut into the air, easily knocking over two of the mages in formation, the ring leader aggressively casting a counter attack.

“Thoron!”

“Shit—” Soren flung himself forward, hugging himself into a tight ball to roll out of the massive explosion, hissing from the graze that he suffered at his ankle. He cursed, tucking his knee to his chest and casted his attention to the line of mages, seeing they were regrouping and preparing for the attack to finish him off—and Miriel’s presence unsuspecting right behind them. Sparking forth with activity.

“Now what do we say we finish this?” The ring leader stepped forth, the tome beginning to ignite in the next spell. Soren scoffed at the threat, using his good leg to shakily kneel up, darting his attention past the ring leader.

 “It seems their aim is in need of polishing, don’t you say Miriel?” Soren called out loudly.

“If you’re referring that I should take disciplinary measures against these imprudent cretin, I may have to incline to agree with you.” Miriel expressed with a scowl, “You should have been more mindful of where you have positioned yourselves.”

The mages took a turn from Miriel’s sudden entrance, a seal of yellow and gold exploded from beneath her figure, electrocuting those that stood before her path. The ring leader that had stepped out and spun around, agape from the surprise attack. With a sneer did he whirl around, but Soren had already cut him to it, his tome alit.

“Arc-wind!” The spell hurled the ringleader back aggressively, his tome falling from his possession. Soren blinked slowly, scooching forward to pick up the fallen tome, humming. He didn’t need it anymore. Smirking lightly at the new confiscation did Soren acknowledge Miriel’s stature striding to him, offering him a hand.

“Nicely done.” Soren complimented, grunting as Miriel had to clasps both her hands to tug the man up, the taller woman merely fixing her hat afterwards.

“Exploiting their egos is nothing worth praise. It’s only becoming vexing when they treat us as actually adversaries.” Miriel lectured, Soren rubbing the back of his neck.

“Perhaps, but it gives us the advantage every so often. I’ll take it while I can.”

“Indeed.” Miriel’s eyes darted sharply to the side, suddenly hurling her hand up. A seal of white and gold expelled, a shield expanded in front of her. It cracked from the pressure of the explosion, shattering into pieces at their feet’s, Soren staring incredously.

“What was that?!” Soren gripped Miriel’s arm, suddenly coming to realize the regrouping army had taken notice of their fallen comrades and were coming back to avenge them.

“An experiment. I’ve been testing new spells on my free time. I’ve managed to conjure a shield that would protect its castor—but it has its limits. It can only shield enough to protect from medium ranged spells and the tome itself only lasts for five spells.” Miriel threw her hand up, the shield reflecting a lance that had been hurled in their direction. It shattered upon the mere throw but it allowed for them to make their escape into another passageway, hopefully averting away from the army’s wrath.

“Miriel, your work is ingenious.” Soren praised, releasing his hold on her when he assumed they were far enough. The older woman offered a small smile at the flattery.

“I suppose I had to thank Vaike. The dingdum doesn’t know when to quit in battle. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.” Miriel insisted.

Soren smiled at that, “We all have someone like that—” He hissed abruptly from the strain his ankle offered, hoping to the wall to support himself. It hit so suddenly he had forgotten he had it from the quick escape. Miriel seemed to scowl at the sight and Soren merely shrugged at the judging stare.

“You wouldn’t by any chance have a vulnerary?” Soren asked to lighten the mood.

“I do,” Miriel withdrew one from her pouch, but held it at bay, “Please refrain from turning into Vaike, as acting Grand Master, it is your job to make sure /we/ don’t get killed—don’t make it easier for the enemies to kill you.”

“I understand, it was a graze.” Soren took the bottle, inhaling and braced himself—dumping the contents upon his ankle and hissed from the liquid that scorched and healed his injury. He grimaced, swinging the rest of the liquid to his lips, shutting his eyes from the bitter taste of ox tail and newt’s feet. The last thing he needed to know until Stahl told him over making aprotherapy, “Besides, I have people looking out for me.”

“And yours happens to be our commander.” Miriel acknowledged, “Perhaps even the young traveler through time.”

_Lucina?_

Soren nearly choked on the last of the liquid, wiping the corner of his jaw as he attempted to recollect what could have stood out that even Miriel notice. Nothing feasible was collecting in his thoughts, stumping him on Miriel’s suggestion.

“….What makes you say that?” Soren questioned with a raise brow.

“You haven’t noticed? Even on the boat—” Miriel blinked, “It’s clear beside Chrom who in an alternative dimension she’s her father—she has settled a trust with you. She worked with you with ease compared to the apprehension she held towards Sumia or Frederick.”

“I…didn’t actually notice that.” Soren admitted lamely, drawing his attention to Miriel, “…Did Stahl make this deduction, by any chance?”

“He did, I was observing him run thirty laps around the top deck and he had made the mention of it during his break.” Miriel fixed her glasses, “I thought it was fascinating enough to study—and indeed I noticed the animosity she holds towards the others. I may not understand quite yet why—but I presume it’s over a presumption she has made of the Shepherds.”

Animosity?

Soren recalled their conversation on the deck, recalling her worries over the battle to come and where her trust upon the Shepherds should be met. But he hadn’t imagined her to draw a cold-shoulder entirely to them. That wasn’t entirely productive either to her cause. Soren frowned at the idea of having to talk to her about it again, but it was better to feign ignorance to his comrades for the time being till he knew a better way to bring it up to Lucina.

“…Huh.” Soren pressed his lips together, “I think…thanks for bringing it up to me, Miriel. I’ll talk to her later about it when this battle is won.”  

Miriel nodded solemnly, flattening the ends of her dress, “If it’s worth any merit, you best make sure our commander is safe before you attend to that problem in the making.”

The distinct sound of Chrom’s yell rang from across the block, earning Soren’s immediate attention. Chrom swept in heavy combat against whom he presumed to be the general of this small army, clearly averting his attention to the sweeping number of foot soldiers coming at him. He seemed to have back up however, as the dark-haired swordswoman from before made her entrance, sweeping across the battle-field with grace and poise, her pink robes alluding her to almost pink petals. She cut down several that tempted to interfere with Chrom’s sweeping battle but the numbers were growing and Soren quirked his lips.

“I should be able to stronghold myself for the duration of the combat. Go, assist Chrom.” Miriel relented.

“I owe you one,” Soren offered a half of a bow to her direction, separating in combat to charge after his friend, skidding against the floor to avoid the cast of a spell towards his direction. Withdrawing his sword, he cut at the ankles of the mage, swiftly striking into the spine of his opponent before reeling back. Catching sight of the warrior vexingly combating against her opponents, Soren removed the stolen tome from his side, brushing it open to find the contents of the new spell.  He leveled his attention back upon his opponents, exhaling carefully with a raised arm.

“Thoron!” The words sparked his very core, the spell gratifying the granite beneath his feet. The tome rocked in his possession when the spell exploded out, a large burst of thunder casting out like a cannon across the battlefield. It caught the soldiers that tempted to slaughter her in its vicious path, leaving charred bodies to fall to the ground.

“Gracious,” The woman coughed into her sleeves, her demeanor tense at the scene then to the tactician’s direction. He held his hands up, the young woman cautiously observing him before striding over, sheathing her sword, “Are you allied with the Shepherds here?”

“I’m actually the tactician of said group,” Soren explained, holding a hand out, “I’m Soren.”

“My gratitude then, my name is Say’ri. I fight with the Resistance here.” She introduced, clasping his hand tightly, Soren biting back at his bottom lip from her strong grip, “Your comrades valor and your tactics have actually made word all the way out here. It’s rather remarkable watching it in action.”

“Oh?” Soren raised a brow, “Word already has made way?”

“Aye, I would explain more…but…” Her dark eyes casted to the side, Soren following her gaze to see Chrom deep in battle. Almost forgot about that.

“Do you mind assisting me then? The sooner this battle ends, the sooner we can talk.”

“Aye, I’ll lend my blade to you, we have great means to discuss upon.” Say’ri agreed.

They swept into the battle, crossing swords against the remaining Valmese that pursued them. Say’ri held her own in combat, switching from one sword to two and cleaved a path for the tactician to assist. The mighty spells that erupted from Thoron was enough to drain the tactician but it cleared easy paths for them. Bolts of electricity formed and shot towards another, watching the knight drop to the floor and opening a direct path for Say’ri to launch up and attack the General from behind. The General seemed ready for the attack, having swung his sword to counter her own, forcing the Chon’sin warrior to flip in the air.

“Nice timing,” Chrom acknowledged as Soren joined his side, smirking lightly.

“What, you couldn’t handle him all by yourself?” Soren teased, earning his friend’s exaggerated eye roll.

“Tch! So, you _were_ squirming around here, princess?” The General garnered, revealing a tome in his possession, “Glory to the empire if I shall snuff out the figurehead of this Resistance!”

“Princess?” Soren didn’t have enough time to process the sudden information as Chrom charged forth.

“Not on my watch!” Chrom blocked a heavy swing from the General, gritting his teeth from the backlash. Soren blocked the second round, this time providing Chrom the opening he needed to leap up and cut across the General’s chest, knocking him off his horse completely. Say’ri was quick to run from the other direction, managing to shatter the shoulder pads, leaving his neck vulnerable to attacks. Soren pulled his tome, holding his hand outwards with sparks swirling and spiraling around his feet. The general was hasty to avoid Soren’s fire of Thoron, in response attacking with his bold spell.

Flames licked dangerously across the street, dividing off Soren and Chrom from Say’ri, the woman shielding herself with an arm raised. Chrom clicked his teeth, cutting back his attention to the General. It was a wordless agreement from their meted gaze, both nodding to confirm the choice of attack. Soren joined Chrom’s side in charging forward into the fray. Electricity exploded forth the blade, Soren charging forward to catch the general by surprise. The general blocked his charged attacked, redirecting the sparks of lightning that threatened to damage him. He could feel every strike and club battering against the blade, Soren darting back when the General swung his tome out. Flames busted out in retaliation of the attack, but Chrom darted in Soren’s place, clashing blades with the tiring general. The young King slashed upwards, cracking the dense armor plates on his chest, causing Chrom to back up entirely.

“Now Soren!” Chrom’s voice boomed.

The general’s puzzled expression morphed into one of complete disbelief when he caught of Soren’s position from behind, the tome opened wide and the seal beneath his feet already crackling a-life with bolts and shocks.

“Tch…well met Ylissean scum.” The General scoffed.

“Thoron!” The man took the hit directly, the impact of the spell overriding the painful cries he emitted. Soren pressed his lips together over the sight of the fallen warrior, clasping his tome shut once the General finally keeled over, his tome and sword falling beside. The flames of his spells deceased along with him, a trail of ash remaining to what was once there. Say’ri crossed over the line, joining the two warriors at the side of the General.

“I pray that’s the last of this combat now.” Say’ri spat at the man’s direction, scowling.

“It should be,” Chrom acknowledged, “I think Lucina is finishing the last of it now—”

“Where is she? I thought she’d stick with you throughout the fight?” Soren pressed to ask.

“Oh she did, but you didn’t give her time for her entrance.” Chrom teased. Soren turned briefly to meet his gaze, but ultimately found Lucina’s yell catching his attention. Swords clashed aggressively, steel screeching and scratching upon one another, Lucina hadn’t disappeared off—she was taking a whole gang of soldiers on her own. Soren could only stare—her movement was so similar to Chrom’s but she carved it as her own, her speed made her nearly impossible to graze and it was enough to cut her opponents down with ease. The last soldier didn’t stand a chance against her and perished without a moment’s notice. She withdrew her sword, brushing the sweat that built along her brow—

_Thump thump_

_“You seem rather drawn to her….”_

_Oh no_

_“But my…you choose a rather challenging rose. One entwined within a poisonous bush of thorns.”_

Lucina looked over to them, offering a small smile and wave— _THUMP_

_OH NO._

Soren’s cheeks remained a rosy red, imposing enough that the tactician had to draw his hood over his head. He tucked it as far as it could go, forcing himself to admit a disappointed sigh to distract himself and to give the impression he was more annoyed then….bashful. Chrom seemed to have taken the pray, chuckling.

“She’s quite the swordsman, isn’t she?” Chrom regarded, “I insisted to help her but she said it was worth more effort to take on the foot soldiers then the General himself. I wonder where she gets that from….”

“I think she’s better than you, Chrom. At least she doesn’t let things get to her head.” Soren drew out, shutting his eyes.

_May Naga smite me right now. At this very spot._

“Oh, you don’t mean that.” Chrom grinned and only could laugh when Soren drew the hood down even more, clasping any loose openings to face him. _Chrom, if only you knew, but if you did, we both be in a very awkward situation._

“Oh, but I doooo.” Soren answered back boldly. Chrom couldn’t keep that smile back, looking to what Valmese remained having given up arms, surrendering quickly. Say’ri strutted over to them, scanning the area over with a relieved smile when she began to see pedestrians of the city pour out of their houses. Say’ri exhaled heavily, her swords finally allowed to sheathe and her hands free to shake their hands vigorously.

“Mercy, friends! The tales of your strength were no exaggeration…” Say’ri smiled warmly, examining the Valmese soldiers relinquishing arms to the Feroxi warriors, Seelie overlooking the surrendering. With a hearty sigh did she return her attention to Chrom, Soren slowly peeking out from the shadows of his hood.

“That General said you were the figurehead of this Resistance? So, there is an organized resistance here in Valm?” Chrom inquired.

“Aye, of sorts. Several groups formed to seek liberty of for the states of Valm.” Say’ri explained.

“I thought the emperor had stamped out all dissenters….” Soren recalled Virion’s statement, quirking his lips. The warmth on his cheeks finally began to die down thankfully, enabling him to loosen hold of his hood and let his locks fall on his shoulders again. Say’ri nodded but she flashed a sly smile in return.

“He tries, but we Resistance are a slippery lot. We strike hard and then vanish again into the dark of the night. Even now rebels ride to the banner of dynasts across the continent. United, we could pose a veritable threat to Walhart.”

Soren and Chrom shared a gaze, before Soren met Say’ri’s, “So what’s the problem? If there’s an organized Resistance, there should have been more damage done….or is there more to it?”

“For some time I have struggled to bring us together. Yet Greed, jealously, sloth; all the old weaknesses of man plague this cause.” Say’ri folded her arms against her chest, her lips quirking, “The dynasts all would have freedom, but on their own terms. Some refuse to take up arms unless their territory is threatened. Others thrive under the Conqueror’s heel and will not join unless there is profit in it. Liberty is a fine word, aye, but not always enough to rouse men from foolishness.”

“I take it you’re looking for a more convincing argument, then?” Chrom placed a hand on his hip.

“Just so, although my efforts thus far have met with meager success. It would have been none if not from the tales of my newly acquired tactician hadn’t rallied our forces. I fear many distrust me because my brother fights for Walhart.”

A crown prince supporting a tyrant? That could easily destroy Say’ri’s representation across the continent. Soren’s brow’s narrowed and he rested his palm against his hip, “Why does he support the empire?”

“Would that I knew, good sir. Yen’fay was a good man once, but he is my brother no more! If we meet on the battlefield, I would cut him down, same as any other imperial.” There’s a pause, a disappointed sigh escaping her lips with her eyes casting down, “Walhart is said to command a million men now. Perhaps more. Sooner or later he will stamp out the Resistance entirely, if we do not unite.”

Soren’s jaw dropped, “A million?”

Chrom’s eyes widen considerably at the number. Soren couldn’t blame him, none of their reports had said anything about a _million_ men at Walhart’s side. The Plegian’s forces dwarf in comparison and having roughly _half_ that number with the Ylissean’s and even less from what Regna Ferox provided, Soren had an awful feeling that they were going to be _severally_ at a disadvantage.  

 “Ha! And what are one million men against the Ylissean dogs of war?!” Say’ri bolstered positivity, slapping at her sides that left Soren only questioning where she even got that name from.

“You stopped a thousand of their ships, did you not?” Say’ri met Soren’s gaze, “Your daring strategy has awoken and inspired people across all of Valm. Together, I know we can yet unite the Resistance and break Walhart’s grip!”

“….Err…” Soren rubbed his neck, stretching it back slightly to observe Chrom’s stony demeanor. Say’ri took note, striding up to him.

“I plead to you, Prince Chrom, I am in need of your aid.”

“This is no easy thing you ask of me.” Chrom admitted, “I have my own causes: a halidom to save and a future to win.” He sighed heavily and rubbed at his neck, moving his hands a second later to his sides, drumming them. It was a moment of hard judgment that Chrom looked up at the young princess, inhaling.

“Still I admire your courage….perhaps your mission is the best way to achieve mine. So yes, Say’ri, I will join your cause with my own.” Say’ri looked absolutely ecstatic over his answer but kept a professional manner, nodding her head allowing for Chrom to continue, “And if I’m wrong, it’s my life on the line. As it should be. Now. What will it take to unite your people?”

“Well, I do have one idea.” Say’ri admitted, “But I must check in with my tactician to see if she’s secured the location.”

“Your tactician?” Soren repeated.

“Why yes, in fact—she’s probably expecting a response from me soon.” Say’ri hummed, thumbing along her chin, “I was originally intending this mission to only be a scouting one—?”

Lightning exploded in a fiery launch outside the town, Soren having to throw his arm over his face to avoid the blinding light it created. The work of the Shepherds and the other soldiers had halted immediately over the display of power, the town hushing. Lucina had been the first to dart past them, heading directly towards the scene.  Soren, Chrom, and Say’ri shared a hasty glance, taking a charge down the street past the growing number of stunned soldiers. Pushing past against a stretch of knights that readily prepared to engage did they see the aftermath. Electricity zipped and zapped off the corpses of the remaining enemies that tried to flee, weapons nowhere in sight.

“What happened here?” Chrom demanded, searching amongst the familiar faces of the Shepherds that had joined behind them.

“There!” Lucina pointed out.

There was no army of mages that stood against the Valmese, but the bodies that laid about in either agony or in death was no mirage. Nor the silhouette of an individual that stood out over the dead. A lone mage stood in the remainders of the battle field—striding forth with the remainders of an ancient thunder jolting over her gloved fingers. Soren clicked his teeth, already hearing the assembling of weapons being drawn forth amidst Flavia’s orders. It was through the smoke and residue did it finally begin to reveal a troop was at the command of the woman—weapons in possession easily waiting for the orders. The closer she drew to their direction did Soren’s teeth clench tightly, catching her attire. It was as if the universe was spiting him—she wore a cloak familiar to that of his own.

_What were the chances._

“You know, the more I see others wearing your cloak, the more I’m starting to wonder where I can buy me one,” Stahl said from beside and Soren could only groan slightly.  

The mage seemed poised for the next attack, her arm raised threatening, “Release Her Highness from your clutches and your deaths will be swift—” They were here for Say’ri, then that means—

A thunder exploded in the direction of her presence, Soren gritting his teeth and reaching for his own tome. There was no way they were going to allow her to take down any of their men—even if there was a misunderstanding.

“Men at the ready—” Chrom ordered loudly. 

“Nay!” Say’ri grabbed forth Soren’s wrist, raising her gaze to him then to Chrom, “Either of you, we are allies in this war.” Soren exhaled carefully, allowing for his arms to fall at his side, Chrom putting his Falchion away at the sign. Say’ri nodded, urgently hurrying into the open plains with her arms spread out. At the sign of the young princess did the mage lower her guard—but only slightly.

“Stop this madness—these are not the Valmese but the Ylissean and Feroxi troops! They’ve agreed to ally with the Resistance.” Say’ri boldly proclaim. A wave of silence fell upon the opposing troop, many helmets turning and cautious gazes darting to one another.

“Where is the proof?” The mage across demanded. At this did Chrom step forward to Say’ri’s side.

“I am Chrom, leader of the Shepherds and Crown Prince of Ylisse!” Chrom’s voice boomed over the battle field, earning the darted gazes of the troops, whispers festering loudly into questions and some demanding further proof.

“….” The figure lowered her arm, her hand shutting the tome with a loud thud, “Say’ri, you did not make word back to us.”

“My apologizes, but I was assisting them in combat to return this town to the good of the people.” Say’ri turned, sensing the animosity an entire say, thousand men had towards this one woman. Say’ri beckoned for the cloak individual to draw closer, Chrom easing the men beside him to hold off while Soren and he joined close to hear what Say’ri had to say. She turned to them with a steady sigh, pushing a fringe of her bangs back.

“This is my tactician, Elena—I apologize for her rather bold presence but she has been unwavering and indispensable to our cause. If we gather our forces and intelligences, I dare say we may have a chance to turn the tide to our favor.” Say’ri introduced the tall woman whose cowl shielded her face from the two men. Soren blinked slowly, attempting to examine underneath it—ignoring the childish laughter that rang in his ears.

“Would you mind removing the cowl, milady.” Lucina had stepped forth from beside Chrom and Soren, her eyes narrowed towards the tactician. “If you insist for our cooperation, then I ask merely for your tactician to lower her cowl to bare a sign of no ill-intentions.”

“….Very well.” The woman’s tone changed, from razored and cold to soft and distant. The woman reached to the inner folds of her cowl, lowering it down earning an audible gasp from Lucina’s lips. Chrom and Soren shared a look and it fell back upon the woman who looked to be in her late thirties. Curls of sandy-blonde fell upon her shoulders, deep brown eyes meeting his own—

_Catch me if you can!_

_You’re going to have to try harder than that!_

_Soren—run_

_RUN!_

“It is you.” Lucina clasped her hands over her lips, “Elena!”

They hadn’t expected the warrior to dart across the open plain to ram herself into the older woman, even earning a hearty grunt from the cautious tactician. What had been an immobile expression had morphed into one of joy, a small smile carving its way onto her lips and even—embracing her in a hug.

“Uh…..am I missing something?” Basilio pondered, “What the hell is going on, Chrom?”

Chrom tentatively searched across the number of faces that were beginning to look at him for answers, questionably brows raised and hushed whispers traveling. It didn’t help when he caught Soren’s blank expression, almost taken aback from how far away from the present he seemed. Chrom frowned deeply, glancing back to see Lucina contentedly smile, the older woman softly speaking to her. Yet—their eyes met for just a moment—and something strange stirred in his very core.

“...I’m not sure,” Chrom acknowledged, the Khans both turning to face him, his demeanor steeling for what was to come, “But I suppose we’ll be finding out.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first Fire Emblem fan-fiction that I hope to continue to spurge on. I recently got into the series a year ago and I completely fell in love with the characters, story, and music. I really love this game to death, it totally came by surprise as well so it's a bonus! So I would really appreciate any comments and critiquing for what I can do to improve this story along the way. I really suck at romance as well -w- so if you have tips or else Lucina will end up how she is in the game to be so awkward. BUT ANYWAYS. I hope you enjoy this story. This fic should hopefully be posted every week or every two weeks depending on how busy my schedule becomes. Thank you for reading and until next time, enjoy~


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